Crayola of Chack
by CrystallicSky
Summary: This is going to be a long, crazy ride. CHACK, WORK IN PROGRESS
1. S: A to B

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Almond-**_

Jack gave a breathy sigh, burying his face in his pillow.

Chase merely laughed, his large hands continuing to rub up and down his lover's back. Slick with cream, their glide was smooth and firm, talented in a way that continued to pull these sighs and groans from the young man beneath him.

"Are you perhaps enjoying yourself, Spicer…?" he wondered.

Jack shivered instinctively, already half-way lost in heaven. A massage, rich body butter that was doing wonders to his skin, the creamy scent of almonds pervading his senses, _and_ Chase was talking in that wonderful voice of his?

This was a luxury that bordered on ludicrous.

"Mmmyessss," Jack managed to purr in response, drawing yet another chuckle from his master. Let Chase laugh at him all he liked, so long as he didn't _stop._

"I imagine you're feeling a bit better, then?"

One red eye blinked open. Better? What… oh. Oh, right, he'd been complaining to Chase about back pain…something about a Showdown…? He couldn't remember anymore right now, nor did he _want_ to.

Remembering was very distracting from the feeling he wanted to do.

"Yeah, better," he murmured, his eyes slipping shut again. "Keep going."

Chase grinned and happily acquiesced.

_**Antique Brass-**_

Chase remained relatively out of sight, preferring to give Jack his space as he wandered around his old lab.

Though it had been quite some time since Jack was here, his body had not forgotten even a single detail of the specialized basement laboratory. He moved flawlessly amongst the tables and shelves, only having to sidestep every once in awhile to avoid broken down machinery.

"I can't believe this place is still _here,_" he said eventually.

"You put a very good locking mechanism on the door," Chase pointed out. "When Mr. and Mrs. Spicer died, the mansion was made a museum, but no one could figure out how to get into the basement. If I recall correctly, several locksmiths were called in and after they were unable to fake your handprint or remove the door altogether, dynamite was suggested. The museum staff nixed that and decided there was enough storage space in the attic."

Jack absently nodded, continuing to take a trip down memory lane. A deactivated, dismantled Robo-Jack, a rusting Chameleon-bot, that stupid time machine…

Jack had long since remade these things much better: a Mecha-Jack, purposefully created _without_ the dangerous self-updating AI, a Shifter-bot, now able to take on the form of anyone or anything with seamless holographic transformations, and a…well, it was still just a time machine, but it had a return function and was therefore better.

Chase watched as Jack suddenly paused before making a beeline to his oldest creation: a simple Jack-bot.

A white hand (sans gloves; he only wore gloves when working, these days) gently touched the cold, hard metal of the inactive automaton. His fingers traced the design of the face, skating over the black lacquer and brass.

"Brass," he muttered to himself. "Did I really make them out of brass?" The concept of using such a soft metal in the construction of robots seemed unfathomable now. There were so much stronger metals available, like titanium and tungsten, even steel! But brass…?

It wasn't the only thing Jack found himself criticizing about his past work. The structural configuration of the Jack-bot was top-heavy and hardly resistant to trauma. In retrospect, it was obvious that they would get toppled over and broken apart so easily by a well-placed kick.

Just thinking back, their programming had quite a few bugs, as well. They weren't truly dangerous ones like those in the old Robo-Jack, but they were bugs that would've slowed down and outright impeded performance in obeying orders and carrying out attacking maneuvers.

Simply put, in comparison to Jack's current work, the Jack-bot was obsolete.

"I've…come a long way, huh?" he wondered aloud.

Chase nodded from his place partially among the shadows. "A few hundred years will do that to one's progress in their field," he said casually.

Jack did not meet his eyes for a long moment, and when he did… "Can you destroy it?" he asked. At the odd look he received, the goth clarified, "The lab, I mean. All of the evidence that this was ever anything more than a basement with a fancy lock. Can you do that?"

"Easily," Chase assured. "Is that what you want, Jack?"

Jack nodded.

"Then, I will do it." He held out a hand, inviting Jack to come and take it. "Come, consort: we go home."

Jack took a step forward only to pause and glance backwards at the robot he'd been inspecting.

The Jack-bot was useless; obsolete; riddled with flaws and imperfections.

And yet…

"Wait," Jack said.

Chase quirked an eyebrow.

"I want this one," the eternally young man confessed. "As a…memento. You can destroy the rest of it, just…not _this_ one."

Chase offered Jack an enigmatic smile. "Whatever you wish," he assured, once more holding out his hand in offering.

Jack gladly joined his master at his side and took his hand, allowing Chase to transport the three of them home.

_**Apricot-**_

Chase watched, practically hypnotized as his beloved enjoyed his mid-afternoon snack.

White lips wrapped sensually around the fruit, teeth sinking into the tender flesh with a wet sound, sweet juice dribbling down his chin…

Chase had to wonder if Spicer had managed to turn messy eating into an act of eroticism, or if he was just far too easily aroused, these days.

Jack cottoned onto the fact that he was being watched and pulled the apricot away from his mouth, tongue darting out to sweep along his bottom lip; licking up the remaining juice in a positively sensual manner.

"Hey, Chase," he greeted. "What's up?"

By Jack's casual tone, he hadn't even been _trying_ to be seductive, and yet he'd gotten his overlord all hot and bothered!

Well, that just wouldn't do, Chase decided, stalking closer to his consort. Such indignity deserved a fitting punishment…

"What's up?" he echoed, coming nose to nose with Jack. He dipped ever so slightly, licking a trail from the youth's chin to his lips and savoring the sweet tang of juice to be found there. "Why don't I show you…?"

_**Aquamarine-**_

Jack was a mechanical genius. In his younger days, his creations hadn't always been perfect; had sometimes backfired, but that was in the past; when he'd been young and reckless and hadn't always quality-checked everything.

Certainly, magic seemed to be the more reliable option, most of the time. It seemed a lot safer and, in practice, more effective and efficient than something done by machinery, but that was hardly an option.

Jack didn't have enough skill with magic; only barely enough to be able to use Shen Gong Wu. Machines were his field, the thing he had the utmost confidence in, what he trusted to be able to solve whatever problems he needed to solve.

That confidence, however, was drastically shaken and wavering. Nothing had gone wrong yet and hopefully, nothing would, but Jack could not be blindly confident in his own skills now, not with so much at risk.

Worried red eyes once more fell upon the computer's readout, giving him data: steady heart-rate, vitals strong, brainwaves intact. Everything was fine by the computer's account, but again, Jack was not so sure.

Glancing upward at the glass tube, the glow of the delicate bluish stasis fluid within reflecting on his face, Jack watched his lover with obvious concern.

Not two days ago, the monks had gotten horribly lucky and lucky monks translated into _un_lucky Heylin everlords.

Pierced through the lung! Jack would've laughed at how silly a thing it was to bring down the powerful Chase Young if he weren't feeling so nauseous and nerved up.

It had been an accident, truly. The Xiaolin had been horrified to see Chase collapse, choking on his own blood and struggling to breathe.

They had fled in a panic instead of trying to help, and a frantic Jack had managed to get his overlord here to the lab, where _he_ could help.

Chase was dead to the world, now, and floated peacefully in the tank of aquamarine gel that suppressed his consciousness and movement. A breathing apparatus did the work of taking in oxygen for him and he was hooked up to several different life-support devices that ensured his well-being.

Not for the first time, Jack was wishing _he'd_ been the one almost-fatally wounded because Chase knew how to handle these situations. There was probably some healing spell out there that would've taken care of this problem in minutes and Chase, the stoic warrior he was, would've hardly batted an eyelash before seeing to it that everything turned out hunky-dory.

It was a miracle to Jack that he'd hadn't broken down crying yet, although he figured he might out of relief if— _when,_ he forced himself to think—Chase got better.

Jack hated this: the waiting, the uncertainty, the _helplessness._ Of course, he was doing all that he could, but he was constantly doubting himself, constantly waiting for Chase to flat-line or something because _he'd_ done something wrong or because _his_ machines weren't good enough.

But that could easily be the lack of sleep talking. Since the horrifying event had happened, the most sleep Jack had allowed himself were the few minutes he unintentionally conked out every now and again.

How could he sleep when the man he loved was possibly still in mortal danger?

Jack breathed deeply and laid his hand on the glass, wishing it could pass through and Chase would be awake and take his hand, berating him for worrying so damn much. He was a dragonlord, for gods' sakes!

With another glance at Chase's perfectly serene face and at the computer's data that assured him again that Chase was fine and healing right along schedule, Jack sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Chase would pull through. He had too much resilience to be killed by something like this, and Jack was a mechanical genius: anything he built would work wonders and Chase would be perfectly alright in no time, ready to enact his revenge on the monks.

For the first time in nearly two days, Jack smiled and truly believed it.

_**Asparagus-**_

"Chase?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we have asparagus for dinner, tonight?"

Chase frowned and fixed Jack with a hard stare.

"What?" Jack defensively wondered.

"You want asparagus so you can test out the foul-smelling urine theory," Chase declared.

"Eating asparagus _does_ cause foul-smelling urine," Jack corrected, "but only, like twenty-something percent of the population have the right genes to be able to smell it and I wanna know if I'm one of that percent!"

Chase sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "You realize that is a ridiculous reason to eat asparagus, don't you?"

Jack appeared quite unbothered by this fact. "So?"

Chase sighed again. "Fine," he conceded. "Asparagus for dinner, it is."

Jack jumped up and cheered, utterly jubilant at the prospect of being able to eat a vegetable that changed the scent of his urine and Chase continued to remind himself of all the other _good_ things about his consort that made putting up with this nonsense worthwhile.

_**Atomic Tangerine-**_

Chase sat patiently in the living room of the Spicer mansion, waiting for his hostess to return from where she'd excitedly dashed off to.

Beside him, Jack spoke up. "Thanks for doing this," he said. "I know you don't have to."

Jack, of course, had pleaded for this meeting. He had never had anyone to bring home to the folks before, and now that he did, he had asked Chase if he wouldn't mind being showed off too terribly.

Chase had initially expressed a reluctance to go through with it. Young men weren't exactly expected to bring home other young men to show the parents, and those that did were frequently subject to prejudiced yelling and, 'I have no son's.

Jack had assured him he'd prevaricated that and come out to his mother months ago. As for his father, he was never home, anyways; always off on business and no longer really factored into the family equation.

After copious promises that Mrs. Spicer would welcome Chase wholeheartedly as her son's significant other and the most irritating thing she could do was be happy, Chase had given in and allowed the visit.

So far, Sylvia had exuberantly greeted the pair, complimented Jack on finding such a handsome man as his boyfriend (Jack had looked distinctly like a tomato at that point), and insisted that the two of them make themselves at home while she fetched a plate of cookies from the oven for them.

"Nothing catastrophic has happened yet," Chase admitted. "Your mother is a very…cheery individual. She's easy enough to get along with."

Jack smiled. "Yeah," he agreed, "she's—"

He was cut off by the reentrance of the lady of the household, looking like distilled sunshine with her bright yellow dress and pretty blond hair (threaded liberally with gray, but nonetheless lovely). She effortlessly balanced a tray of deliciously fragrant chocolate chip cookies in one hand while an album was held in the other.

"Cookies are done," Sylvia chirped, setting them down on the coffee table and gracefully seating herself beside the everlord. "Help yourself to as many as you like!"

Chase wondered for a moment if such consistent happiness in his mother had been the deciding factor in Jack's choice to be dark and evil, but he didn't wonder on it long.

Jack groaned in dread. "Mom," he began, "why do you have the album?"

Sylvia smiled and set said album on her lap, certain to hold it so Chase would be able to see. "Well, honey, I just thought your boyfriend might want to see some pictures of you!"

Chase _almost_ waved the opportunity away as unnecessary: he had Jack _now_ and had no need of seeing him younger.

However, Jack made the fatal mistake of groaning again. "No, mom," he begged, "don't show him the pictures…"

"I would _love_ to see Jack's baby pictures," Chase declared with a grin, much to Jack's horror. "How very thoughtful of you, Mrs. Spicer."

Delighted to be indulged, Sylvia opened the album and pointed to a photo. "Oh, look here," she cooed, "it's Jackie as a baby. Isn't he sweet?"

Jack noticed with a sinking feeling of dread that it was the typecast, embarrassing baby picture: the one that featured him buck-naked on his stomach with his tiny baby rump in plain view.

Chase laughed, more at the mortification on his consort's face than the actual photo. "How cute," he said for Sylvia's benefit.

Mrs. Spicer flipped another page and pointed out another picture. "Here he is a little older," she said. "He is just _precious_ in his pajamas! Did you know he was scared of the toilet until he was three?"

"_Mooooooom…!_" Jack exclaimed, thoroughly dismayed.

Chase laughed again, only sparing a brief glance at the photograph of little-Jack in a pale blue onesie.

The page was turned a third time and a picture actually caught the dragonlord's attention.

In it, Jack of about eight or nine was surrounded by several police officers, pouting something fierce. Men looking to be part of a bomb-squad were also in the shot, carrying away what looked like an orange hooked up to a car battery.

"What happened here?" he couldn't help but wonder.

Seeing where her guest was pointing, Sylvia smiled. "Oh, Jackie got into a little trouble back in the day," she explained. "That was the time he made a bomb out of a tangerine."

Chase blinked silently for a moment. "A _bomb?_" he echoed incredulously.

"Oh, yes, he was a very talented boy," Sylvia praised. "To this day, they can't figure out how he did it, but he almost blew up half of his school, the little prankster!"

A glance at Jack saw him quite embarrassed. "It was…I used the citric acid in the…never mind, it's not important," he declared.

"Not important?" Mrs. Spicer chuckled at her son. "Sweetie, that's what got you expelled, don't you remember?"

Jack winced. "Yeah, I remember, mom. Can we drop the atomic tangerine, already?"

Sylvia pouted. "Oh, alright," she agreed and turned another page. "Oh, Chase, look here! This was Jackie's first attempt at taking over the world! Isn't he just adorable?"

Chase obligingly looked at the young Jack, a wrench in his hand as a makeshift scepter, a strainer as some sort of crude helmet, and a rather large dog as his noble steed, but he was more focused on the odd fact that this bright and sickeningly happy woman seemed to approve of her son's evil aspirations wholeheartedly.

It was clear from Sylvia's friendly behavior towards him that he had been accepted into the Spicer family.

Even so, Chase couldn't help but wonder what sort of _strange_ family he'd just been accepted into.

_**Banana Mania-**_

"Chase, why am I blindfolded?"

"Because your gift is meant to be a surprise," Chase answered succinctly, continuing to lead Jack down the hallway. He had a feeling he would be thanked for this gift for a _long_ time.

"Oh, you didn't have to get me anything," Jack said. "What'd you get me?"

"What part of 'surprise' has slipped past your notice, Spicer?"

Jack proceeded to make a displeased noise and was quiet until they at last reached their destination, Chase throwing open the door and leading Jack inside.

"Can I take off the blindfold, now?" Jack wondered.

"Not yet," Chase said, handing his consort something.

Jack knew it the moment he touched it. "The Monkey Staff? What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Activate it," the overlord suggested. "It will enhance your surprise."

Dubious, Jack nonetheless did as instructed, taking on the quicker, more flexible, and more dexterous half-simian body.

A tantalizing scent hit his enhanced nose.

"You didn't," he accused.

Chase reached up and undid the blindfold from Jack's eyes. "See for yourself," he invited.

Jack's jaw dropped as he beheld the sight before him: bananas _everywhere._ His favorite flavor was set out for him in possibly every incarnation it could have been. Plain fruit, pudding, cream pie, bread, even splits!

Chase grinned but couldn't help his wince at the loud screech of glee from beside him as the partially-monkey Jack practically rushed the buffet of treats laid out. Had he attacked the food with any more enthusiasm, it would be mostly all over the walls as opposed to the intended destination: his stomach.

"Happy birthday, Jack," Chase called to his lover.

He received another joyful screech in response as Jack scampered around the room of banana confections, far too excited to properly thank Chase for an excellent (and delicious) birthday present.

_**Beaver-**_

When Chase had entered the den to find a giggling Jack watching television, the last thing he had expected the goth to be watching was a nature show.

Having nothing better to do, Chase joined his consort on the couch and decided to see what was so funny.

Jack glanced over briefly, acknowledging his presence but otherwise saying nothing and returning his attention to the program.

The narrator, in a stereotypically British accent, was speaking, accompanying several screen pans of a forest and the animals within it. Most prominently featured, it seemed, was the North American beaver.

_"…population is in decline,"_ the narrator was saying, _"due largely to extreme hunting. Beavers are hunted for their fur and for their glands that are useful in perfumes and medicines."_

Jack snickered as if he had heard something funny. Chase looked at him blankly before continuing to watch.

The narrator had moved on and was now discussing biology. _"They continue to grow throughout their lives, so it is not uncommon for an adult beaver to weigh upwards of 55 pounds."_

A snort of laughter from Jack again and Chase frowned.

"What's so funny about that?" he demanded.

"You wouldn't understand," Jack said, shaking his head. "It's not…never mind."

Chase's frown deepened, and he reluctantly turned back to the nature show.

_"Aside from dams,"_ the narrator was informing viewers, _"beavers also build homes for themselves, known as lodges."_

Jack was smiling, Chase noticed, but not laughing.

_"The ponds created by well-maintained dams help isolate the beavers' lodges, which are created from severed branches and mud. The beavers cover their lodges late every autumn with fresh mud, which freezes when the frost sets in. The mud becomes almost as hard as stone, and it is impossible for wolves or wolverines to penetrate the beaver-mound."_

And there was the laughter, this time boisterous and obnoxious like the narrator's words had been raunchy. Jack began laughing so hard that he was forced to clutch his stomach, his face bright red as he collapsed sideways onto Chase's lap.

And then, it hit the everlord just what his consort found funny.

Scowling down at the youth, Chase declared, "You are _so_ immature, Spicer."

Jack managed to get in a breath of air and paused his laughing, but only long enough to say, "Well, at least I don't have an impenetrable beaver-mound!"

_**Bittersweet-**_

Sometimes, Jack wondered if it were all worth it.

Unhappiness with his life and his failures had reached a fever pitch several decades ago. He had been so disappointed that he could never seem to win, so jealous that his peers (the monks) were so much stronger than him, so angry at his supposed allies' mocking, and just plain _hurt_ at Chase's refusal to acknowledge him.

Looking back, he knows it as a move of desperation. No one else would listen: good despised him, evil ridiculed him, and love just plain ignored him. Perhaps the impartial gods would listen.

With the summoning spell he had found, listen they did, but his cause was nowhere near noble enough for any of those aligned with good, and so it was gods of death and destruction that heard his plea.

Jack was granted his wish.

In exchange for his soul, he was given power and magicks strong enough to wipe out all who opposed him. In exchange for using those powers to call down the wicked gods to earth, he was granted eternal youth. In exchange for his humanity, he was allowed to save one person on the planet from the chaos that would come forth.

Jack agreed to it all and did as he had promised to do. Armageddon rained death and pain on the human race, enslaving or torturing those who survived the initial bedlam.

Society collapsed within a day and mankind fell, simply because of one unfairly ostracized young man.

The gods Jack called his masters were pleased with him and chose to allot him a territory of his own. He became a bona fide lord in his own right, ruling over the subjects he'd been granted with an iron fist, his most beautiful pet by his side.

Chase hated being referred to as a pet. He also hated the collar and leash; the manacles that oppressed both his magic and his sense of self, but they were necessary. If Chase left Jack's keep, he would likely be killed instantly and Jack had no want of that. True, he could no longer remember _why_ he didn't want that, but he knew he didn't.

When Jack had sacrificed his humanity, he had sacrificed everything that made him human, not only in body, but in self. He could no longer be happy or sad, angry or pleased, and hate and love had become foreign concepts to him. Sometimes, he felt as if he remembered his human feelings for Chase, the beautiful warlord that had captured the heart of the mortal Jack, but the remembrance was always fleeting.

The immortal Jack did not _feel._

So, he spent his days on his throne, passively ruling. There were hardly any conflicts that needed his attention, for the people he ruled were kept in line by fear of his very appearance.

Jack's human body, as said, had gone. He was only a vaguely humanoid shape now, a glowing, barely corporeal figure of white light with hellish red where his eyes should be. Jack knew he looked quite scary, for absolutely everyone recoiled from him at a mere look.

The mortal Jack might've been insulted, but the immortal Jack felt nothing.

Jack reflected that Chase was likely far from happy with his situation. He almost never spoke these days, and when he did, it was always insults and the sentiment that he'd have much preferred death to this slavery; the very slavery that had saved him _from_ death.

He never displayed anything remotely positive towards Jack, either. He shuddered whenever his unwanted master touched him, likely out of disgust, even when it was only to stroke his hair. He hissed and spat like a cobra whenever Jack got too near, proclaiming that he would rather the other immortal fuck a porcupine (or something else unpleasant that came to mind) than him.

His fears of that nature were quite unnecessary. Even if Jack _did_ still have sexual urges, he would be physically unable to act on them. He was bodily not human anymore, and as such, he was quite incompatible with Chase.

The mortal Jack might've been terribly pained by Chase's continual refusals (and the inability for anything to happen _if_ Chase were willing), even _after_ he'd obtained power and domain, but again, the immortal Jack felt nothing.

Feeling nothing was quite the blessing, though, he idly supposed. A mortal, a human would be able to see how hollow this victory was; how bittersweet the payoff of his sacrifices was. They would be able to see that he had given up everything and really, his life was no better than before: Chase still didn't love him back.

But Jack was not human and he could not see those things or be upset by the tragedy of them.

It was just as well: the best thing about not being able to feel was not being able to regret.

_**Black-**_

"What is your fascination with goth subculture?"

Jack sighed, looking irritated. "Don't do this," he said.

Chase raised an eyebrow. "Don't do what?"

"This!" Jack exclaimed. "You always ask weird, random questions like this that I'm just _expected_ to answer."

Chase sat up straighter, frowning. "I _am_ your overlord," he reminded. "As my consort, you are bound to obey me. You know that."

Jack sighed, hearing truth in those words. "Fine," he said tersely, "I like black. Happy?"

"Not particularly. _Why_ do you like black?"

"Do you want the short answer or the long answer?" Jack asked.

"That depends," Chase shrugged. "What's the short answer?"

"I like black because."

The dragonlord snorted. "The long answer, then," he decided.

Again Jack sighed. "Brace yourself," he suggested. "I like black because it's the absence of color. I like it because it goes with everything; because it's slimming. I like it because it's the color of rebellion, death, and _evil._ It's sexy and sophisticated, mysterious and cool, and since I've been labeled with it already, I figured I might as well just run with it."

"Labeled?" Chase prompted.

Jack nodded. "I've been a black sheep since birth. After getting blacklisted, black-eyed, and just plain blacked out, it's hard _not_ to get a little black-hearted. Black tends to grow on you."

Chase eyed his dearest consort, clothed head-to-toe in his color of choice, and considered how close this black-loving youth had gotten to him. "Yes," he agreed, "it most certainly does."

_**Blizzard Blue-**_

For a moment, Chase could do little more than gape at the pitiful, violently shivering figure of Jack Spicer on his porch, standing in the midst of a snowstorm.

"H-hey, Chase," he quivered out through chattering teeth. "I'm h-home…"

Chase blinked once before narrowing his eyes into a glare. "Your lips are _blue,_" he observed.

At this, Jack looked puzzled. "…I don't wear lipstick," he announced, shaking his head.

At the nonsensical statement, Chase's eyes widened before narrowing again into an even _darker_ glare. "In," he ordered of his consort, dragging him by the arm. "_Now._"

Jack stumbled after him, his steps sluggish and apparently difficult to make. It didn't help that Chase was pulling him along like a wooden duck toy, muttering angrily all the while.

"I _never_ should have let you go home," he was growling. "Christmas or no Christmas!"

Jack was doing his level best to keep up. "Wasn't snowing when I left," he explained. "The blizzard hit halfway here. Didn't wanna land 'cause I wasn't sure where I was, an' I figured it'd…be worse to land, 'cause then, I'd be out in the snow…"

Chase took a deep breath, reining in some of his anger and (dare he admit it?) fear. "You did the right thing, Jack," he gently assured. "You're home. I'll take care of you."

"Take care of me? Is there something wrong with me?"

Jack abruptly tripped, causing Chase to stop and pull him upright before continuing down the hall.

"Hypothermia," he informed, at last coming to their shared bedroom and pulling his lover inside. "You were out in the cold too long and have far too many symptoms for it to be coincidence."

"Crap," said Jack, as it was the first thing that came to mind. "M'not gonna lose a limb or something, am I?"

Chase calmly began stripping the goth of his helipack and trench coat. "No, xin aí, that is frostbite. You're confused right now. There's no need to be worried: you came home before your case became severe. I would say your hypothermia is moderate; still dangerous, but you're indoors where you can be warmed up."

A thick, cozy sweater was forced onto Jack, his head popping out fine on its own, but his lack of coordination requiring help to get his arms through the sleeves. He nearly lost his balance and fell again as he was spun around so that Chase could more easily remove his jeans and replace them with a warm pair of sweatpants.

Jack grunted in surprise as he was seated on the bed, watching with yet more surprise as Chase carefully removed his boots and peeled off his socks, slipping on a fresh pair of wool ones and fuzzy slippers over them.

"Are we gonna snuggle?" Jack wondered as Chase began undressing and redressing himself, as well.

"Something like that," the dragonlord allowed, joining his lover on the bed. "You need to get warm and rest."

Several blankets were wrapped around the two of them and, had Jack really been paying attention, he'd have noticed the sudden spike of heat in the room, caused by Chase's elemental control of flame.

As it was, he was certifiably oblivious to it; a combination of drowsiness, luxurious body heat, and plain old love drawing his full focus to Chase, who cuddled him close like a precious object.

"Mmmlove you…" he murmured affectionately, practically burrowing his way into the dragonlord's chest and drifting off to sleep.

Satisfied that his consort would be well, Chase nestled himself against the bedding and buried his nose in Jack's soft red hair. "I love you, too, Spicer," he said.

_**Blue-**_

A month.

A _month!_ What a terrible shirking of duties! What an irresponsible thing for a consort to do; to decide to go gallivanting off on whatever stupid whim and just _leave._

The first week or so had been irritating, but tolerable. _Now,_ things were getting ridiculous— _in_tolerable by any definition of the word.

Feh! A _month:_ how disgustingly cruel!

Abruptly, there was the sound of a door opening and Chase's head turned so quickly that, were he a lesser man, his neck might've snapped.

"Hi, Chase, I'm back," Jack greeted, setting his bags down and closing the door behind him. "Remind me to _never_ go on anymore family vacations where dad is involved; talk about awk—mmph!"

Jack suddenly found himself tackled to the ground and molested within an inch of his life, making it perfectly clear to him that he should really never leave his overlord alone so long without attending to his consortial duties.

_**Blue Bell-**_

"Chase…what's all this about?"

"I thought you enjoyed gardening, Spicer," Chase noted.

Jack shook his head. "I do, yeah, but…this? Really?"

"I don't see why not," the dragonlord merely shrugged. "You're going to be living in my palace and I simply don't have the patience to deal with you 24/7."

At this, Jack pouted.

"Oh, don't," Chase sneered. "I don't have the patience to deal with _anyone_ 24/7 and no one else in the world does, either. _Both_ of us would go insane without our own hobbies _away_ from each other every so often. That doesn't mean I hate you."

Jack still frowned, but he was no longer pouting. He didn't have too much relationship experience outside of Chase, but he had heard that that was how healthy couples worked. In love with the dragonlord as he was, he still couldn't see himself getting sick of Chase's presence, but he could acknowledge that if they spent _all_ their time together, it would eventually get kind of irritating.

"So…a garden?" he prompted.

"Your own private garden," Chase nodded. "You may come to it whenever you like, plant whatever you like, and do whatever you please with the space."

As of now, said space wasn't much: really, it was just a patch of land, albeit with soil that looked to be good for planting just about everything but the pickiest of flowers and vegetation. It was a spacious area, though, and Jack imagined he could put in a nice fountain and a walkway, maybe a bench or two so that he could sit and read a book or something when the garden was in bloom.

And of course, if Chase ever wanted to hang out in here with him, he wouldn't bar the everlord's presence.

Abruptly, something caught Jack's eye, off in a far corner of the garden. Flowers, he realized, a small thatch of pale bluish-purple blooms that looked to have been pre-planted in the otherwise empty garden.

"Chase," he began, inspecting the delicate flowers hanging upside down from their stem, "what are those?"

Chase looked. "Ah, the bluebells," he acknowledged. "You can keep them or not; it's your choice, but do look up their meaning before you decide."

And with that, the overlord was gone in that magical way of his, leaving Jack altogether puzzled.

Later that night would find Chase laved with affection from a touched and happy consort, who had taken his master's advice and found the bluebell representative of everlasting love.

_**Blue Gray-**_

The first thing Jack saw upon opening his eyes was nothing because it's really hard to see anything when white-hot pain is rocketing through your skull.

Instantly, his eyes clamped shut tightly as if to squeeze away the pain while a hand came up to his aching forehead…

…or tried to, anyways; his right arm did not seem to be responding too well and stung when he tried to make it move. That probably wasn't a good sign.

Jack decided opening his eyes was worth the risk of pain again if it might help him determine what the hell was going on. This time, the first thing he saw was an expanse of sky partially hidden by treetops: blue tinged dark with a hint of dirty gray.

_Oh, great,_ he thought to himself, _wherever I am, it's gonna rain soon._

He was not yet ready to sit up as that would require movement of more than his head. Even though his headache was still very bad as of now, he did not want to test how much worse the other aches in his body were; not yet.

So, instead, he turned his head to the side and looked around. Grass, he saw, lots and lots of grass with rocks and tree trunks (which he could only assume were attached to the trees that were blocking the sky).

Probably a forest, he decided, but how the hell had he ended up here?

Wondering if the other side of him would give any answers, Jack turned his head to the right. More grass, more rocks, more trees, but also mechanical wreckage looking quite like it might've been his helipack at one time.

_Must've crashed,_ he decided, following the stem of one cracked and bent propeller, only to find one of the blades lodged in his arm.

Surprisingly lucid about it, just _knowing_ he should really be freaking out, now, Jack simply figured that was probably why his right arm wasn't working so well. Who knew how many other jagged metal parts had gotten lodged in his body from the fall.

So…yeah, pretty bad.

Jack decided he should attempt to sit up. That propeller really _did_ need to be taken out of there and he should probably try to find some sort of shelter before it started raining.

A lightning shock of agony raced up and down his spine when he attempted it, pulling a scream from his throat and forcing him to fall back to the hard ground.

Jack lay there for a long moment of blinking sightlessly up at the dark sky, panting for breath. "Okay," he decided aloud, voice sounding rough and hoarse even to his own ears, "guess I'll just lay here, then…"

"Oh, no, you won't."

Jack's first instinct was to sit up again and look in the direction of the voice. Thankfully, for his own sake, he reined in that instinct and simply waited until the voice's owner stepped in close and he could see them simply by looking up.

"Chase?" Jack frowned up at the everlord, thoroughly confused. "What are you doing here?"

Chase, for his part, looked extremely pissed off, if Jack did say so. He could only pray that Chase was not pissed off at _him,_ for he couldn't very well run away, nor could he adequately take any punishment the older man wanted to give him.

"Is that the thanks I get for coming to your aid, Spicer?" Chase demanded. "I thought it quite courteous of me to come and save you."

Jack blinked up at him, abruptly reminded of his headache as he tried to think of just why Chase would have any interest in helping him. He prudently decided that now wasn't the right time to ask as Chase _did_ seem to have some interest in it and to turn away _any_ help would be just plain stupid when he could hardly move on his own.

"Thanks," he said instead. "Saving me would…would be good."

Chase sneered and knelt at the goth's side, surveying the damage. He obviously didn't look very happy with what he found, for the sneer easily became a scowl; the very kind of scowl Jack frequently used as a cue that he had irritated Chase far too much for the day and should run like hell, now.

Jack watched warily as gloved hands took hold of the metal blade in his arm. "Brace yourself," Chase advised, and the youth had only seconds to clench his teeth and steel his nerves before the propeller was deftly yanked out.

There was a grunt at the stab of pain and a few tears gathered at the corner of his eyes, but Jack bore it relatively well.

Chase continued looking him over, taking inventory on whatever injuries he had and Jack gratefully took the time to catch his breath and try and think back as to what had led him here in the first place.

Things were fuzzy for him, but it was coming back; a little bit, anyway. He remembered…flying home from a Showdown…and his helipack had sparked and whirred and made several other noises frightening to anyone who knew machinery. His helipack had never failed him before: he made sure to perform maintenance on it daily, sometimes twice. One could never be too careful with a device that had to carry you several hundred feet in the air.

It couldn't have just broken, he realized. Impossible. Maybe…sabotage? He _had_ lost track of it at one point during the Showdown…and when he'd left (in defeat, of course), the monks had been smiling…like they _knew_ something…

Would they _really_ have…?

"Spicer," Chase said sharply, getting the youth's immediate attention.

"What?" he asked, startled.

"I cannot treat you here. You have too many broken bones and from the looks of your pupils, a concussion. I will have to take you home with me," Chase explained. "Do you understand that?"

Jack nodded slowly; slowly as nodding sort of hurt his brain. "Yeah," he said. "I understand."

"Then, stay still," the dragonlord ordered before scooping the goth up easily enough that he could've weighed nothing.

Jack forced back a cry of pain at being jostled when in such poor shape, letting out only a tight hiss that slowly died away.

Chase held Jack's broken body against him, one arm around his waist and the other cupping the back of his skull (careful of the large knot to be found there). "Wrap your legs around me," he instructed the battered young man, wanting to secure his grip a little better.

Initially, Jack was wary of attempting such a feat, but it proved surprisingly painless for him. When he'd fallen out of the sky and crashed into the forest, his upper-body had taken most of the punishment and cleared the way of branches for his legs: the most damage to them was superficial bruises and a cut or two.

Exhausted by the whole ordeal, Jack rested his head on Chase's shoulder, filling his vision with thick, dark hair. The blackish-green was much lovelier, he decided, than the blue gray of the rain-threatening sky; its scent much more pleasing, as well.

The two men were gone by the time the first droplet fell from the sky, lighting gently on the wreckage of the tampered-with helipack.

_**Blue Green-**_

It was sometime after midnight when Jack escaped the cabin and crept out on deck. He walked past several young couples, likely heading to and from the always-open bar and buffet; or perhaps sneaking off for a romantic, moonlit moment.

For now, Jack was alone, sincerely doubting that any romantic moments he wanted to have might be approved of.

Perfectly quiet and unobtrusive, making sure to find a secluded spot, Jack folded his arms atop the ship's guardrail and leaned against it, gazing out at the darkened sea. The view was nice, he supposed, light glinting off of the calm waves in a very pretty way, but he couldn't really bring himself to enjoy it. Not when he felt…

Icky.

Jack tensed up as a pair of arms quite suddenly encircled him, holding him tightly to a firm, broad chest. He prepared to kick and scream and whatever else might help were he being assaulted by a stranger, but a lock of long, silky hair fell over his shoulder and brushed his cheek.

"Chase," he acknowledged. "I thought you were asleep."

"I was until my consort decided to slip out of bed in the middle of the night," Chase murmured at his ear, causing Jack to unintentionally shiver. "I was waiting to see if you would do anything interesting."

"Nothing interesting tonight," Jack frowned, slumping back against the rail. "Sorry to disappoint you."

Chase was still behind him, and just as quiet as he was motionless. Then, "Something is bothering you."

Jack sighed. "I…I dunno, I was just…thinking that maybe…this cruise wasn't such a good idea…"

This time, there was no silence before a reply. "You're still upset by what happened at dinner."

Jack winced at the very memory of it. "Yeah," he admitted, "just a little."

"I dealt with that woman, Spicer. It's over."

"I know, I know, but…"

"But what?" Chase demanded.

"But it's not fair!" Jack declared. "We weren't _doing_ anything! We were just having dinner and maybe you touched my hand once. It's not like we were…fucking on the table or something!"

Chase sighed. "Xin aí," he said, "people with prejudice will always exist to find flaw in that which society currently considers taboo. That woman didn't care that we weren't doing anything obscene: she simply saw the fact that we were an obvious couple having a romantic dinner—but we happened to be two men. She is the type of person who could not see how harmless our activities were to those around us; only how deeply our _existence_ irritated her."

"But the staff _agreed_ with her," Jack petulantly reminded, "or do you forget being told to 'please tone it down'?"

"Have _you_ forgotten how I soundly put both parties in their place? How I pointed out the heterosexual couple _also_ holding hands that weren't being told to tone it down?"

Jack frowned. "No…I didn't…"

"Even the woman's own _daughter_ was embarrassed by her behavior," Chase pointed out. "When she finally went back to her table, we received a standing ovation."

"Yeah, but…" Jack sighed again, staring out at the sea. "It's still not fair…"

There was silence between them for several long moments, simply watching the waves of blue green ocean crash gently against the ship.

Then, Chase rested his chin atop Jack's head. "We can attempt this vacation again in a few decades," he suggested to his lover. "I can guarantee we will have no trouble from anyone."

Puzzled, Jack tried to look up at Chase in question, only to realize it was quite impossible. Instead, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Time degrades all unfair prejudices," Chase explained. "The rare fool who simply hates others that are different in ideals and practices from himself shall always exist, but society as a whole moves past such things. Only a few generations ago, blacks were seen as subhuman creatures inferior to the All Powerful White Man. A generation before that, they were outright slaves."

Jack was quiet, considering this. "So…in the future, being gay won't be a bad thing…?"

"Eventually," Chase assured. "Homosexuality is a taboo, now. As time goes on, it will become more of a counterculture, and then a subculture, as socially acceptable as the gothic clothing you so enjoy."

At this, Jack smiled. "So, all we've gotta do is…wait."

"Precisely." Chase nuzzled his hair and Jack giggled at the oddly ticklish sensation. "You and I have far more time to kill than most: a few decades is nothing to us."

Sufficiently cheered up by the thought, Jack turned, looking up at his lover. "You wanna hit the buffet?" he wondered. "I'm kinda in the mood for some pizza."

Chase laughed and kissed Jack, certainly not caring that this spot was right in view of the earlier irritant's cabin window _or_ that she had chronic insomnia and was likely to be looking.

"Pizza it is, xin aí," he purred.

_**Blue Violet-**_

Jack noticed the limp sometime early in the afternoon. It was a subtle thing, but Jack often made a habit of committing Chase's personal quirks and habits to memory and anything not the norm became immediately obvious.

Knowing for a fact that the warlord's stride was usually perfectly smooth; a graceful thing of purpose and power, Jack took quick notice when it suddenly turned hesitant and stilted.

He did not, like most would, pass it off as nothing, but neither did he read too much into it. Chase was a lord and he a consort, and it was hardly his place to pry. That had never really stopped him before, but this was just a little limp and Jack was hardly in the mood to be snapped at for asking about something that could very well be…well, nothing.

So, instead, he decided to observe.

The limp remained throughout the day, still small and inconsequential, and Chase said nothing about it, so Jack didn't ask.

The next day, the limp had not yet left: instead, it had worsened. It still wasn't very bad, but now, it was something that the average person might be able to notice. Still, Chase was not saying a word about it, so Jack didn't bring it up.

The next day, however, put an end to the silence.

Jack was training with his master, as he often did these days. Chase had insisted that he learn how to defend himself, and so he did under the tutelage of the best martial artist around.

It was as Chase made to strike at him with an open palm that Jack saw It and dodged, holding up his hands in a gesture of harmlessness to indicate the end of the sparring session.

Chase frowned at him. "What's wrong, Spicer?" he demanded. "Why did you stop?

"Because you faltered," Jack declared.

"What?"

"You faltered," Jack reiterated. "Whenever you go on the offensive like that, you strengthen your stance by bracing your leg. That way you can hold strong if the attack is blocked and be ready to shift into a defensive position to fend off a counterattack."

Chase was impressed at Jack's skills of observation, but still did not quite get what his consort was driving at. "So what? That's hardly new."

"No, but it's new that you set your stance and come at me off-balance." At Chase's look, he assured, "Yes, you did and you _know_ you did. I can tell when you're not giving me your best, Chase, and that wasn't it."

"I must be tired," Chase imperiously decided. "You kept me up quite late last night, if you'll recall, Spicer."

Jack scowled. "Chase," he said sternly, "you've been limping for the past two days and just now, putting all your weight on your leg made you—_you!_—falter. What's wrong with you?"

Normally, had Chase glared so darkly at him, Jack would've shut up and backed off immediately. Instead, he had quite the feeling that it was merely an intimidation tactic, posturing meant to avoid having to answer.

"Tell me," the youth demanded to know.

Chase hissed at him, a sound of absolute loathing as he roughly jerked up his pant leg for Jack to see. "It's _nothing,_" he growled in an attempt to prevaricate any sympathies.

Jack, for his part, was busy staring at the garish bruise on his master's ankle, a colorful array of blues and purples and blacks marring the normally lovely golden skin. "What…what the hell happened?" he wondered.

"That Showdown," Chase sneered. "Surely you haven't forgotten it already."

And Jack hadn't forgotten, but it had all been a very standard affair. Chase hadn't even fought! _Jack_ had, and he'd won, too, despite the fact that Hannibal Bean had made an appearance to vie for the newly-activated Wu.

He had knocked the foul creature right off the edge of the canyon they'd stood at. Of course, the creep had managed to climb back up just as he had been leaving with Chase. Chase had scowled in disgust when the legume had latched onto him to pull himself all the way up and had kicked him off—…wait.

"You got that bruise from _Bean?_" Jack asked incredulously. "But…but he only grabbed onto you for a second!"

"You've no idea how strong that pestilent thing's grip is," Chase scoffed.

"Well…why didn't you tell me he hurt you? I was getting worried about you, you know!"

Chase petulantly refused to make eye-contact with his consort and said not a word about his reasons.

It was times like this that knowing his overlord well made things a lot easier on Jack. Making a look like that, Jack was reminded of how terribly large Chase's ego was and how easily it bruised from showing weakness.

Like as not, he simply hadn't wanted to seem any less than perfect and amazing in front of his lover.

Jack smiled to himself and approached the standoffish Chase, catching him in an embrace. "Next time, tell me," he suggested. "I like knowing who I should be pissed at for daring to lay a hand…vine…root-thing… on my master."

Apparently, this appeased Chase, for he returned the embrace. "We'll see," he said, which was about as good as Jack would get.

"Fair enough," Jack agreed.

_**Blush-**_

"Has it finally happened…?"

"Has what finally happened?" Jack wondered.

"Have I finally gone senile and forgotten the date of my own birth?"

Jack snorted. "No, it's not your birthday. This is a…'just because' present."

Chase's eyes did not leave said-present; not once.

For whatever reason, Jack had decided to get a portrait of himself done. He had hired a professional, up-and-coming artist to paint it and posed for _hours,_ he said, but as far as Chase was concerned, the result was more than worth the effort.

Looking remarkably lifelike, the painted Jack lay sprawled upon a bed, an enticing 'come hither' look in his eyes that seemed perfectly captured. He was entirely nude, but the portrait was hardly trashy for Jack's pose concealed most everything lewd while particularly featuring the sleek contours of his body.

The canopy of the bed had been used quite creatively, as well, and the deep pink fabric had been draped over and twined around him. Depending on how much of the gauzy-looking material had been used, it was either a bold contrast to or a delicate mesh framing Jack's stunning white skin.

"I love it," Chase said honestly. "I will treasure this 'just because' gift of yours and hide it away for private viewing. I want no one else to see my beautiful consort looking so lovely; especially when such a look was intended for _me._"

At the time Chase said this, Jack had smiled and kissed him affectionately, inviting the dragonlord to come and see the real thing.

A week later, however, saw Jack exclaiming, "You _killed_ him?"

"He saw too much of you," Chase shrugged nonchalantly.

"He was just doing what I paid him to do!" Jack pointed out.

"And I thanked him for a job well done in that department," Chase allowed. "Then, I lopped his head from his shoulders."

"Chase…!"

"I did him a favor," Chase insisted. "He was an artist at the height of his popularity, which could've only gone downhill. Now that he's been tragically murdered at the peak of his career, he'll be leaving behind a legacy worthy of the history books."

Jack frowned. "What about his wife?"

"She'll survive," the everlord declared in confidence. "Her late husband's work will earn far more being sold posthumously."

Jack sighed, bringing a hand up to his face. "Goddammit," he said, "I can't take you _anywhere._"

Chase refused to take offense to the statement which was really just as well, as Jack could never stay mad at him for very long, anyways.

_**Brick Red-**_

Chase could, quite literally, not stop laughing.

"Shud'dup!" Jack was howling at him with a nasally voice. "Dis hurts like _hell!_"

This prompted Chase to laugh harder, which only pissed off his consort even more.

"Dammit, you basdard, id's _not_ funny!" Jack abruptly tasted his own blood again and re-tilted his head back, trying to stem the flow of sticky red. "I think id might be broken…"

And now, Chase was crying, clutching his stomach as he tried desperately not to keel over from sheer hilarity.

Really, a good boyfriend would be helping Jack, fetching him tissues to wipe up the nosebleed, checking to make sure his nose really _wasn't_ broken, assuring him that, 'it's okay, lots of people walk into brick walls, you're not an idiot, I swear.'

But Chase was not a boyfriend, nor was he good by any means of the word and so he continued to laugh.

_**Brown-**_

"What is _that?_"

Jack looked up, startled by the sudden intrusion. " Oh, god, Chase," he exclaimed, "you scared me!"

"And yet, you haven't answered my question," Chase pointed out. "What in gods' name are you looking at?"

Jack returned his gaze to his desk, currently littered with various little trinkets. "Oh, this is just stuff from dad's Disappointment Box."

The warlord raised an eyebrow at him.

"Dad has basically decided that I've been a disappointment to him at…pretty much every point in my life," Jack admitted. "He made a box full of all the proof of it and gave it to me as a birthday present a year or two back. You better believe mom was pissed. Anyway, I'm bored, so I'm just looking through it."

Chase scanned a few of the items briefly: an acceptance letter from a prestigious college that Jack had clearly not attended, several documents copyrighting various robotics breakthroughs to _Jack_ Spicer instead of Martin, even the fateful pregnancy test that read positive!

But still, Chase's eyes were drawn back to what had originally caught his attention. "And what, specifically, is that?" he demanded to know, pointing the thing out.

Jack looked at it and picked it up. It was a photograph, or looked like one, of essentially himself. Essentially because, while the facial structure was the same, the coloring was all wrong.

Instead of red, his eyes were a cool, icy blue and his skin was a normal fleshy color; a bit on the pale side, but hardly _white._ The most prominent difference of the strange, parallel-Jack, though, was the hair: a rich shade of brown reminiscent of what one might see in a mug of coffee or hot cocoa.

"Oh, right," Jack shrugged, "this thing. Dad shelled out a crapload of money about a month before I was born so that he could get a peek into the future. This was made digitally and it was supposed to show what I'd look like at Age 20."

Chase seemed to be glaring at the image for whatever reason. "Then, why is it _wrong?_" he challenged.

"Didn't count on me being albino," Jack explained. "If I hadn't been, I probably would've been born with mom's eyes and skin tone. As for the hair, nobody's really been able to figure out how the hell _that_ happened. You know as well as I do that that red's all natural, but I _should've_ ended up with brown hair like dad. Genetics are weird, I guess."

Chase looked his consort up and down, silently appreciating his lovely, vibrant coloring before sneering openly at the image of what a 'normal' Jack might look like.

"Destroy that," he ordered his minion, turning to leave. "I never wish to see something so disgusting again in my life."

_**Burnt Orange-**_

At an acrid smell that quite offended his nose, Chase purposefully strode into the kitchen in search of the unpleasant scent.

He found it immediately, along with Jack, who was standing with consternation written all over his face as he watched the orange burn on the countertop.

"Spicer," Chase snapped, "what is the _meaning_ of this?"

Jack took a long moment to reply. Most of this time was spent mouthing silently, arms spread in a shrugging motion with his palms skyward. Eventually, he managed to speak.

"I dunno what to tell you," Jack admitted, sounding quite dumbfounded, indeed. "I've been in here for, like, ten minutes trying to figure out how the hell this happened."

Chase frowned. "You had nothing to do with this?" For effect, he gestured to citrus fruit still aflame, now turning black.

Jack shook his head. "I just came in here to get some ice cream," he said. "I didn't even touch the orange."

As if on cue, the bowl of ice cream Jack had mentioned, on the table and partially melted, also burst into flames for no apparent reason.

This time, both Heylin men watched it in silent shock until Jack blurted out with an emphatic, "How?"

_**Burnt Sienna-**_

Jack whined. "Are you _sure_ we're not laying on any scorpions?"

"Positive," Chase promised. "Quit your worrying, Spicer. I am more than capable of protecting you from the wildlife. I'm already protecting you from the sun, am I not?"

Pinned beneath his master and the desert sand, Jack was, indeed, quite shielded. "Yeah," he admitted, "but…"

"But…?"

"What are we even _doing_ here?" Jack wondered, most certainly _not_ pouting. "I've seen deserts before. It's nothing really _new…_"

Chase laughed above him. "Deserts, you may have seen, xin aí," he allowed, "but you have not yet seen a desert sunset."

Jack frowned. "It's just like any other sunset, isn't it?"

"Certainly not," Chase denied.

"Well…how different could it be?"

Jack couldn't see it, but he could quite clearly hear the smirk in Chase's voice as he invited, "See for yourself: it's already started."

Squirming out from underneath the dragonlord just a bit, Jack looked up…

…and completely froze.

The sky was, quite literally, awash in colors, all of them vibrant and lively. The setting sun was a pinprick of white-hot light that irradiated into several bright arcs; yellow, orange, pink, and purple that turned the pale sand beneath it a burnt shade of sienna.

"Oh, wow," Jack murmured. "It's…gorgeous…"

"Sunsets are more beautiful in natural landscapes," Chase noted, still blanketing his consort with his body. "I find that the lack of industrial smog makes the natural colors seem so much lovelier."

"You can say that again," Jack agreed.

"Still concerned about scorpions?" the warlord teased. "Now that you've seen what I wanted you to see, we can leave at any time."

"No!" Jack denied. "No…I wanna stay."

"Even though something small and poisonous might be lurking somewhere in this desert?"

"Yeah."

"Even though you may be constantly finding sand on your person for the next month or so?"

"Mmhmm."

"Even though you didn't want to come here in the first place?"

"Yes," Jack said. "At least until the stars come out. They're probably clearer here, too. Please?"

His lover chuckled. "Of course," he agreed. "Merely making sure you'd truly changed your mind."

And, nestled between the warm sand and his warm Chase, watching a stunning sunset and soon some lovely stars, Jack was glad he'd changed his mind.

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

**A/N: As all of you can probably see, I have started something ridiculous.**

**This all started when I was thinking of possible ideas for my BLANK of Chack series. One of my ideas was to maybe revisit older ones and redo them with different plots/ideas. I considered this for awhile and ended up looking at Rainbow of Chack.**

**From there, it wasn't too large a leap to the project I am working on now: the Crayola of Chack.**

**I say this is crazy because the Crayola company has produced some-200 different crayon colors, split up into several different collections.**

**Let me state for the record that some crayons will be skipped due to repetitiveness (i.e., I wrote an entry for Blue Green; I don't want to write another one for Green Blue), but aside from that, I will be writing a prompt for every other color I can.**

**In terms of posting, I've decided to separate the prompts by Crayola collection. Most of the other collections are small enough that they'll only need one post, but I'm starting with the Standard Collection, which has 133 colors in it.**

**For the Standard, I'm breaking it up alphabetically: this first installment contains all of the crayon colors in the Standard Collection that start with the letters A and B.**

**THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS. Here is a status-update on this project, listing each segment by its Collection name (all of which can be found on good ol' Wiki, if you're interested):**

**STANDARD - Begun, not finished.**

**SILVER SWIRLS - To be written.**

**MAGIC SCENT - To be written.**

**GEM TONES - Excluded: nearly all colors touched on in Gems of Chack.**

**CHANGEABLES - Excluded: too specific.**

**COLOR MIX-UP - To be written.**

**PEARL BRITE - Excluded: too difficult to write for colors that all include the word 'pearl.'**

**CRAYONS WITH GLITTER - Excluded: too specific.**

**METALLIC FX - To be written.**

**SILLY SCENTS - To be written.**

**HEADS 'N TAILS - To be written.**

**TRUE TO LIFE - To be written.**

**EXTREME TWISTABLES - To be written.**

**So, as you can see, I kind of have my work cut out for me here, but so far, I'm having fun with it, so who cares? XD**

**Thank you all for reading this first part of what will hopefully be a long and prosperous series. You can expect more eventually, but for now, I hope you enjoy what I've got! :D**


	2. S: C to F

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, STRONG implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Cadet Blue-**_

"Oh…oh, _rawr,_ baby, that is _hot._"

"I should hope I at least _look_ attractive: I _feel_ ridiculous."

"I see no ridiculous here, I assure you. All I see is a big, bad police officer who's gonna punish me for trying to take over the world…"

"You _swear_ you'll indulge me if I do this for you?"

"Yeah, yeah, we shook on it, remember? We do it like this, and then I dress up like an innocent Xiaolin monk and you can 'corrupt' me all the way to Timbuktu. Now, come _on,_ if I have to keep looking at you in that sexy uniform, my _pants_ might rip!"

"Alright, fine." A sigh. "Jack Spicer, you're under arrest…"

_**Canary-**_

"I must say, Jack, I never expected…this."

Jack glanced over at his master. "What," he wondered, "the birds?"

Chase briefly scanned the room, essentially an indoor jungle or forest that proved host to several dozen species of birds. Only a few were currently in plain view: several bright domestic canaries pecking at the seeds on a hand-crafted birdfeeder, a colorful Painted Bunting hopping about curiously on the ground, and a Baltimore Oriole singing in a flutey whistle. The rest were hidden away somewhere, "doing bird-things," Jack had said.

"Yes," Chase said, "the birds. I'd never have expected you to have such an affinity for avians."

"I _love_ birds!" Jack declared.

Chase gave him a look, silently reminding him of a certain Bird of Paradise.

"Okay, correction," the goth sheepishly revised, "I love birds that don't _talk._ If it's not a person and it talks, I'm generally freaked out by it. Notice there's no parrots in here."

And Chase conceded that this was true. "Very well, then. What's the obsession?"

Jack shrugged. "I dunno, I guess I just like 'em, is all. They don't slobber or bark like dogs, and they don't have all the fur and attitude that cats do…plus, they sing and come in, like, a million different colors. Screw iPods, I've got birds."

Chase laughed, only to pause as Jack suddenly gasped.

"That reminds me," he said, "…in a really roundabout way… I've got some birds I want to show you; particularly, I mean."

Jack pursed his lips and made a birdcall, a shrill, almost squeaky sort of whistle before holding out his hand. Within a minute, one particular bird had flown out of a nearby tree and perched on his finger.

"Chase," Jack began, holding out the feathered creature for his overlord to see, "meet Jack-bird."

Chase could immediately see why the bird had been named as such, for he was the spitting image of his owner.

It was a skinny thing, likely somewhere in between the juvenile and adult period, and its wings and back were a dark, nearly-black gray. Its belly and hindneck were as white as Jack's albino skin, made all the more obvious by the fact that Jack was caressing the soft feathers of the Jack-bird's breast and Chase could hardly tell what was finger and what was feather. The kicker, however, was the bird's crest.

Jack-bird's crest, head, and a bit of his upper breast were all a bright shade of red-orange, perhaps only a little different than the color of the real Jack's hair.

"Ain't he a doll?" Jack wondered aloud. "He's a Red-Crested Cardinal; the second handsomest bird I've got!"

Chase quirked an eyebrow as his consort made a kissy noise, prompting the Jack-bird to turn his head and touch his beak to his owner's lips in a bastardized version of a kiss. He forced himself not to comment on what was essentially a form of masturbation, instead prompting, "_Second_ handsomest?"

At the question, Jack grinned. "If Jack-bird's here," he said, "Chase-bird should be lurking around here somewhere, too."

"…Chase-bird…?"

And then, there was the screech from a nearby tree branch, causing Jack-bird to immediately abandon his owner as if he'd been called.

Chase found himself gaping unabashedly at the sleek, black bird that took to nuzzling Jack-bird on the branch, rubbing his dark and iridescent feathers up against the gray-white-red of the other avian. It had a long, keel-shaped tail that only seemed to magnify the large bird's presence, and the golden eyes (with slit pupils, even!) really _were_ uncanny.

"_That's_ Chase-bird," Jack said quite unnecessarily. "He's a Boat-tailed Grackle. I got him and Jack-bird around the same time and raised them together so they'd like each other. It was before…y'know…_us_ happened, and this was kind of living out my fantasy vicariously."

Chase stepped closer to his consort, even as their bird-counterparts trilled and chattered at one another in the tree. "Don't think of it that way," he said, looping an arm around Jack's waist. "Think of it as a realized prediction."

_**Caribbean Green-**_

A violent crash pierced the air and the moderately sized vessel shook, teetering and tottering on the already raucous waves.

Jack groaned and tightened his full-body grip on the mast. "Do you guys have to do this here?" he whined. "Can't we dock or something and _then_ fight?"

"What for?" a sneering Raimundo demanded, knocking over a very angry Wuya with a powerful gust. "So you won't have to be such a wuss and we'll have to fight you, too?"

Clay, it seemed, was in a similar state to the goth genius aboard the ship and clung to the rail looking vaguely ill. "I dunno," he said, "I think Spicer might have a point, Rai…"

"What?" Rai was clearly not happy at being disagreed with, even as he narrowly dodged a deadly kick from Chase Young. "What are you agreeing with Spicer for, Clay? He's _evil!_"

"You guys are all-out brawling on a fucking _dinghy!_" yowled Jack from the mast, still essentially wrapped around it. "This is a _terrible_ idea!"

At this, Clay sheepishly nodded, indicating that he quite agreed. Of course, it could very well be the complete separation from his element that had him unsettled, but it made more than a bit of sense that land was better to fight on than sea.

Omi, on the other hand, had no such qualms. "Why are you worried?" the small monk all but laughed, pulling water from the sea beneath them and coiling it into a whip-like weapon. "Don't be such a frightened dog!"

Automatically, Jack corrected, "Fraidy cat," even as the small ship rocked harder and made him whimper, turning a very visible shade of green.

"Yeah, don't worry, Clay," Kimiko added, sweeping Wuya's legs out from under her and making her roll to avoid a blast of fire (that thankfully did not set the entire deck aflame). "We totally got this!"

"Jack!" Wuya snarled, even as she launched herself at Kimiko. "Stop crying like a baby and _help_ us, already!"

Jack whined, clinging tighter to the mast. "Come on," he quivered out, "two Heylin masters like you—you can handle this! You don't need a Heylin initiate like me to save you, r-right?"

"Quite right, Spicer," Chase calmly allowed, batting away Raimundo's attempt at an attack like it were nothing. "_I_ don't need any help from you, but perhaps Wuya does. It seems as if she's incapable of handling herself in battle without you as a scapegoat."

Wuya glared hotly at the warlord. "How _dare_ you!" she hissed. "I—"

She was cut off as Kimiko, having seen her opening in the witch's distraction, tackled the woman to the deck. The loud 'thunk' of her head as it hit the wood ensured that she was out of the fight.

Chase smirked, clearly having intended this: his rival for the Wu was now soundly out of commission.

The monks seemed just as happy with this development, for now, they only had one opponent to fight. The three of them (Clay still quite attached to the rail) rushed the everlord at once, hoping to catch him off guard.

They were most certainly not in luck.

Chase had seen the attack coming and apparently tired of the battle, for he released a wave of sheer power that knocked all three monks back.

The Showdown ended and with it, the tumult of the waves stopped; the Wu being fought for falling from the crow's nest and into Chase's waiting hand.

The monks took a long moment to recover, groaning and, in Clay's case, finally pulling himself away from the rail and helping his friends up.

For his part, Jack quite literally fell to the deck of the dinghy, trembling and very, very relieved that all the shaking had stopped. "Oh, god," he moaned, weakly managing to sit up, "I think I'm gonna puke…"

Chase was at his side immediately, pulling him to his feet even as the monks looked on in surprise.

Chase _helping_ Jack? Weird!

"Chase," Jack said, relying on his idol to keep his quaking legs from collapsing under him again, "can we go home?"

Before the Xiaolin could even begin to wonder just what _that_ question was supposed to mean, Chase quite suddenly leaned in and kissed Jack deeply on the mouth.

Naturally, this raised many more questions for the monks.

Jack now looked decidedly more pink than green and smiled brightly. "What was that for?" he wondered.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't 'puke,'" Chase coolly answered. "I can't imagine you have any urge to vomit now."

"Think that much of your kisses, huh?" Jack grinned. "Why don't we go home and see how good they really are?"

Chase smirked back at him. "I'd love to," he assured, and with that, the two of them were gone.

The monks continued to stare where they had been, quite obviously shocked. Omi and Clay were completely silent, both trying to process the very idea of what they'd just seen while Raimundo and Kimiko were more focused on the _how._

"…when the hell do you think _that_ happened?" Rai wondered aloud.

"I dunno," Kimiko said, "but next time, I'm bringing a camera."

_**Carnation Pink-**_

Merely the memory of the look on Jack's face made Chase furious.

The expression itself was touched and altogether sweet: it spoke of flattery and shyness with bashfully averted eyes and a delicate pink creeping across his cheeks.

Chase would've simply adored the look had it been directed at him.

As it was, Jack had given that look to another; an admittedly handsome man who had come to court the Spicer heir with a flower, claiming he, 'had come to discuss a business relationship, but you're _far_ more attractive than I'd been led to believe!'

_Ha,_ Chase thought humorlessly.

Of course, nothing had happened. Jack was loyal when it came to Chase and though he had blushed and accepted the single carnation, he had warned the stranger that he was in a relationship and could not _possibly_ go out with another man. Said other man had been disappointed, but had not pressed the issue, letting the matter drop altogether.

It was for this and this alone that Chase had allowed him to live, but now, _haunted_ by The Look, he was wondering if it had been such a good choice. Killing the would-be interloper could surely help him to work off a bit of frustration.

Chase simply could not fathom why Jack would even give a mortal like that the time of day when he was consort to _The_ Chase Young.

Did he perhaps find him more attractive? Impossible: the man was not _nearly_ as good-looking as he, and even _if_ Jack had been foolish enough to think so, he wouldn't have turned the interloper away like he had.

Maybe it was the principle of the thing. Spicer had never really _had_ an admirer before and Chase had never really _courted_ Jack before (he was a lord; what need was there for it?). Perhaps his was the natural reaction to being wooed for the first time?

Sadly, Chase could not recall far back enough to compare it with his own reaction to first having interest in him expressed.

Chase continued to wonder if it might be the gesture itself that'd caused the look; the actual chosen method of courting. Did Jack like to receive flowers? Again, Chase had no idea as he and Jack had quite skipped over the 'dating' part of their relationship.

Eventually, the everlord decided it was best not to take any chances.

After receiving a bouquet of black roses numbering in the hundreds, their stems gilded and tied with braided silk ribbons, Jack had given Chase a much better look: one of the deepest honor and love a human being could muster only sweetened by the overwhelmed tear or two. There was no blush, but in its place was an embrace and a kiss that quickly led to an impassioned act that Jack's would-be suitor would never experience.

Chase happily never thought of the man again after that moment.

_**Cerise-**_

"Will you kindly hurry up?"

"Chase," Jack gasped, latching onto his master's ankle, "hold still! You'll make me mess up."

Chase hissed. "Remind me immediately why I agreed to this," he demanded.

"'cause if you hold still and let me finish," said Jack, "I'm not allowed to ask you for anything even remotely ridiculous for a month."

"…Ah. Right." Chase glanced down at his toes, the deep, pinkish lacquer standing out vividly. "Why this color, again?" he wondered.

"It's a good contrast to your hair," Jack said absently, more focused on keeping his strokes steady and even as he continued to paint his overlord's toenails.

"My hair?" Chase frowned. "My feet are nowhere _near_ my hair."

"They will be later tonight if I have anything to say about it," his consort casually assured. "Now, hush, or I'll paint your fingernails, too."

Chase hushed.

_**Cerulean-**_

"Spicer, I—"

"Go 'way."

Chase frowned. "Pardon?"

"Can't talk," Jack said, eyes not leaving his game, "playing Pokémon."

"You're ignoring me for a game?"

"I'm trying to get to Mewtwo," the goth whined. "I'll make it up to you later, I promise!"

"Spicer, you are my _consort!_" Chase scowled. "I will _not_ be ignored by y—"

"I made you cupcakes," interrupted Jack. "They're in the kitchen."

"…you have one hour."

_**Chestnut-**_

"You wanna hear a joke?"

Considering that Chase was in bed with his lover at the time Jack said this, with things getting particularly hot and heavy, no, he most certainly did _not._

"Trust me," Jack purred before he could voice this opinion, kissing at his neck, "you wanna hear this."

Seeing that Jack was not stopping the proceedings in order to tell the joke, Chase sighed. "Fine," he conceded, "tell me."

"It's about a boy and his dad," said Jack, pulling off his overlord's silken top. "One day, the boy asks his dad, 'Hey, dad, if I had some nuts and put them on the wall, does that mean they would be walnuts?' The dad laughs and says, 'They sure would be, son.'"

Jack began to kiss and lick at the flesh he'd just exposed, causing Chase to shiver ever so slightly. "Then," he continued, "the boy asks his dad, 'If I took those same nuts and put them on my chest, does that mean they would be chestnuts?' The dad laughs again and says, 'You bet they would be.'"

Jack's perfectly sensual mouth began to work its way downwards, lips and tongue playing with the hard ridges of Chase's abdomen. "The boy wants to make his dad laugh again, so he keeps going. 'Dad, if I had those nuts on my chin, does that mean they would be chinnuts?'"

Abruptly, Jack sat up, grinning and delighting in the surprised expression on his everlord's face. "'No, son,' exclaims the dad," he said, "'that'd mean you'd have a dick in your mouth!'"

And with that, he dipped back down and began undoing Chase's trousers.

_**Copper-**_

Jack was entirely surrounded by stacks and piles of pennies.

"Do I want to know?" his master wondered.

"Chase," Jack greeted happily, "you're just in time to see my master plan unfold!"

Chase watched as Jack proceeded to collect as many of the pennies as he could, a few falling out of his arms with a metallic noise, but they were ignored in favor of dumping the rest into a machine. The machine in question whirred and hissed, several lights blinking before wire suddenly burst forth from it and began coiling around a waiting cylinder.

"I'm melting 'em down and turning them into copper wiring for my bots," Jack explained. "A handy solution, don't you think?"

"A solution to what?" Chase had to wonder.

Jack shrugged. "Well, pennies are kinda useless as a currency and buying stuff for my bots all the time can get expensive, even for me. So, basically, I've decided to collect all the pennies I can get my hands on and reuse them. Nobody's tight-fisted when it comes to pennies, so I can get 'em from basically anybody, and they're essentially paying for their own eventual demise. Evil, isn't it?"

Chase did not comment on the evility of it. "If your machines are so expensive to build," he asked, "why didn't you simply ask me to purchase materials for you?"

At this Jack frowned. "Well…I mean…I've always managed to find the money for my bots _somehow._ I don't want to just mooch. Besides, you're my lover, not my sugar-daddy: I don't wanna have to ask you to buy me stuff all the time…"

Chase abruptly pulled Jack close, pressing an affectionate kiss to his forehead. "Don't go so out of your way to avoid asking me for something, Spicer," he said. "You are my consort and I your master: I certainly don't mind providing for you every now and again. It is expected of our relationship."

Jack smiled. "Okay," he agreed.

"However," Chase continued, "I must insist that you never use the phrase 'sugar-daddy' in reference to me again. Ever."

All he got in response to that was a snicker, which, with Jack involved, would really have to do.

_**Cornflower-**_

Chase watched coolly as his consort stepped out of his time machine, rumpled and smelling heavily of chicory.

"Is it done?" he inquired.

Jack casually brushed himself off. "It's done," he assured. "And by 'it,' I mean 'him' and by 'done,' I mean 'six ways to Sunday.'"

Chase visibly grimaced. "I'm…still not quite sure how comfortable I am with the idea of you fucking another man," he admitted. "Please avoid the details, Spicer."

Jack gave him a teasing grin. "Come on, Chase, it wasn't another man: it was just a younger you."

"I still don't think I like the thought of it."

Jack's grin broadened. "Oh, no?"

Chase warily eyed his consort as the youth stalked closer to him, hips swaying in a maddeningly enticing way.

"You remember it," Jack said to him, his voice low and inviting. "The way I interrupted your meditation…put my hand on your chest just like this," he demonstrated, stroking a warm, calloused palm over his master's firm pectorals.

Chase remembered. "I asked you who you were," he quickly recalled, looking down at his brightly-colored lover of whites and reds; blacks and oranges. "I asked _what_ you were."

While Chase had to truly think back to know this, Jack merely had to remember back a few hours, so fresh the meeting was to him. "I didn't answer you," he admitted, leaning in close. "Unless a kiss counts as an answer…"

Chase shivered lightly, _that_ part of the memory quite vivid, indeed. How could one forget the utter shock of being kissed (for the first time!) by a beautiful creature that must surely be a demon with lips and tongue so sinfully talented?

"I told you to lay down," Jack continued to recall, tracing his hand down his master's front. "You didn't even hesitate."

"I was frightened of you," Chase admitted. "I'd never seen one like you before. I thought perhaps you might be some kind of incubus, come to take my body against my wishes."

Jack laughed, undoing Chase's sash. "But I didn't rape you, did I?"

Chase shook his head. No, no rape had gone on that evening: after a few more of those sweet, sensual kisses, he had been _begging_ for it.

Even if he hadn't completely known then what 'it' was.

"I sucked you," Jack fondly remembered, hands busy opening his master's trousers for easy access. "You hadn't even heard of a BJ before, had you?"

Chase remembered looking down at the lily-white seducer with wide eyes, baffled as to why he was putting his mouth _there_ until things had abruptly become quite clear to him. It was still a shock that none of the other monks, several miles away in the temple, had heard his howling scream as his nether regions were touched with the silky wet heat of a scandalous mouth, nor had they come running to his aid even as he came almost immediately.

"No," he confessed, "I was a virgin in all ways but my own hand."

Jack smirked. "You sure as hell weren't once I got through with you," he reminded.

And nothing could be truer than that statement: Jack had played with him for _hours,_ quite obviously delighting in showing him the in and outs (no pun intended) of sex.

Chase had, of course, quivered weakly about his monkly vows at one point, but if memory served, Jack had duly ignored him and continued to teach him all about the joys of the male prostate and chastity had not been brought up again.

"Remind me," Chase imperiously invited. "Show me again just how wonderful sex with you can be."

Jack smiled and knelt, more than happy to replicate his actions for his master.

As his consort lovingly began to coax him into a state of full arousal, Chase uttered a pleased sigh as the burden that had been with him for centuries fully eased away.

More than a thousand years in the past, a Xiaolin Chase was waking up in a field of chicory, pain in his heart as he realized he was alone; the beautiful stranger that'd so tenderly deflowered him gone and having left only a pale blue blossom in his hair to remember him by.

Only a week later, Hannibal Bean would come to him with promises of power and eternal youth; playing on his emotional vulnerability in order to tempt him into accepting the Lao Máng Lóng. He would surrender his soul and gain immortality, immortality with which he would meet a young man that looked _so like_ the one who had taken his sexual innocence. He would be cruel to him at first, thinking him an unpleasant reminder of the one who had left him without even giving a name until he realized he was no reminder at all and instead, the very same youth. Then, _he_ would be _his_ first, reciprocating the favor of imbuing carnal knowledge and eventually, bring things full circle by sending his consort back to the past in the first place.

But of course, the Xiaolin Chase could hardly predict any of that.

_**Cotton Candy-**_

Chase leaned forward, mouth open and ready, only for Jack to pull away with a teasing smile.

"Ah, ah, ah," he cooed at his overlord, "you gotta work for it!"

Chase scowled. "I most certainly will not," he declared. "Now, come here!"

Again, Jack stepped back, foiling Chase. "Tilt-A-Whirl or no deal," he said.

"I will not bargain with my own consort," he hissed. "Come _here!_"

"Tilt-A-Whirl," Jack insisted.

Chase lunged at him with a growl, but Jack would not have lived past puberty if he hadn't learned how to dodge an irritated dragonlord, and so Chase unfortunately missed his intended target.

"Give it," he petulantly insisted.

"_Tilt-A-Whirl,_" Jack said a third time, noticing that the argument was beginning to draw stares from the otherwise occupied amusement park-goers. He decided he needed to up the ante if this was really not to become a scene. "Double or nothing!"

With narrowed eyes, Chase glared at Jack. "…Fine," he tightly snarled, "Tilt-A-Whirl. Now, _give._"

At last, Jack handed over the fluffy cone of sugary goodness which was quickly snatched away. Looking quite peeved, Chase tore off a bit of the pink fluff and popped it into his mouth, savoring the sweet and sticky sensation it left in his mouth as it dissolved.

Jack nearly laughed as his master's scowl became a pleased half-smile in mere moments. What a perfectly marvelous pacifying effect something so simple as cotton candy had on the everlord!

Chase growled as Jack's hand came near his sugary treat and plucked off a piece, only to be quickly appeased as it was presented for him to eat. He snatched his consort's wrist and pulled his hand nearer, closing his lips around the long, white fingers as he tenderly suckled all of the melted sweetness from them.

Pulling away with a wet popping noise, he fixed Jack with a heavy stare. "Don't forget," he purred. "You promised me double."

"I'll treat you to another one _after_ the Tilt-A-Whirl," Jack agreed with a nod. "You can finish that one on the way there."

Chase did not protest and merely followed after his lover to the ride in question, quite occupied with his candy.

_**Dandelion-**_

All it took was one look at his overlord to have Jack cackling like a madman.

Chase, naturally, was not at all pleased. "What?" he demanded. "What's so funny, Spicer?"

Jack shook his head and continued giggling, causing Chase to scowl.

"This picnic was _your_ idea, Jack," he reminded. "I'd prefer not to be ridiculed for indulging you!"

"M'not laughing _at_ you," Jack managed through his rude sniggers.

"Let me guess," Chase sneered, "you're laughing _with_ me?"

Jack shook his head again, grinning brightly. "In your general direction," he corrected.

Chase sighed. "Tell me what's so funny," he ordered his consort in a perfectly no-nonsense voice that demanded an answer.

He got one.

"You look like a dandelion's money shot," Jack declared.

"A dandelion's…?" Chase frowned, only to quickly realize what Jack was talking about.

Chase uttered a particularly filthy epithet and began the arduous task of combing his long, dark mane of hair for fluffy, white dandelion seeds, even as Jack happily resumed his laughing.

_**Denim-**_

"Spicer," said a mildly irritated Chase, "why won't you walk at my side?"

Jack seemed startled by the question. "What do you mean?"

Chase frowned at him. "The whole time we've been out, you've walked several paces behind me."

"Have I?" Jack seemed to shrug. "Well…maybe I'm just respecting your authority as my lord and master. I mean, all these mortals have to have _some_ way of knowing to respect you since they can't just…look."

And this was true: the current outing was a casual one, and as such, Chase's usual armor was a no-go. At the moment, the everlord was dressed like any other human being might be, in a simple boots-t-shirt-jeans combo that he made look _impossibly_ good, only complimented by the leather jacket he had chosen to shrug on at the last minute.

"Even so," Chase said, "you are my lover and my equal. While I do enjoy it when you're submissive to me, now is hardly the time and place: I would prefer you to walk at my side."

Jack continued to follow behind, biting his lip and looking quite conflicted. Chase allowed it for only a few more steps before outright stopping, turning to face his consort. "Jack," he said firmly, "why don't you walk with me?"

Jack looked away. "I…it's…I don't…"

Chase was silent as he waited for an answer.

"…you have a great ass," Jack eventually muttered.

"…Pardon?"

Jack looked quite a bit embarrassed, now, and shrugged sheepishly. "You've usually got your armor on," he explained, "and with the armor skirting and the loose pants, I don't usually get such a good look…and in _jeans,_ holy _hell._ It's like…'hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave,' y'know?"

"You've been 'checking me out,' as they say?"

Jack flushed. "I…yeah, I guess so."

Chase grinned. "How very flattering," he decided. "Would you still like to go to lunch, or is home the better option?"

With a smile, Jack replied, "Home, please."

_**Desert Sand-**_

Chase was alerted to the intruder in his palace at several loud, aggressive growls from his minions and a high-pitched, very familiar shriek.

Naturally, he was at the site of the commotion instantaneously, ready to fight to defend his home and minions from whatever was so distressing them.

Chase was startled to see no intruder whatsoever, only his agitated warriors and a frightened Jack who immediately darted behind his overlord for protection.

"Chase," the goth whimpered, "make 'em stop! They're scaring Sandy!"

More growls, and Chase stopped them with a single glare before turning to his consort. Before he could even ask, he was answered in terms of who Sandy was, for Jack was most definitely not what his cats had been snarling at.

In his arms, Jack cradled a small animal with dark eyes, dusty fur, and large ears: undoubtedly a fox of some kind. Only a baby, the little thing was curled up tightly against Jack, vulpine muzzle hiding in the crook of his arm as if the large and many predators all around wouldn't be able to see it.

"Jack," Chase began, "what is that?"

"It's a Fennec Fox," Jack said, bouncing it gently and stroking its fur to calm it down. "I found her at that Showdown; remember yesterday?"

Chase nodded.

"Well, the Sahara's too bright for me and you told me not to fight, so I just stayed on the sidelines and watched, like you told me to." Jack seemed to be trying very hard to score brownie points with his lover. "Anyway, when Clay threw that rock—you remember that, right?—well, it hit a fox den and killed Sandy's mom and dad and she was _so_ cute…"

"You want to keep it," Chase said more than asked.

"People do it all the time!" Jack exclaimed. "Fennecs can be classified as exotic pets, and Sandy's just a baby, which is better 'cause she can be hand-reared _as_ a pet, and—"

"The cub is yours."

"Wait, before you say no, let me—…" Jack frowned. "…did you say I can keep her?"

Chase nodded. "Yes, I did," he said. "I see no harm in letting you have a pet." He reached out with a gloved hand and touched it to the tiny fox's head, stroking along the pale fluff.

Jack watched as Chase then turned to his warriors, frowning down at them. "The fox is to be left alone," he imperiously declared. "Back to your posts."

The jungle cats, pouting as best as jungle cats can, milled out of the room with bowed heads and folded ears, unhappy with but bound to their master's orders.

Smiling, Jack reached up and kissed Chase on the cheek. "Thank you," he said.

"Think nothing of it," Chase smiled back, "it's only a pet. Besides, I imagine you'll look quite charming as a full-fledged villain with a fox in your lap instead of the stereotypical housecat."

Jack laughed and so did Chase when Sandy mimicked the noise with a shrill, yodeling howl of her own.

_**Eggplant-**_

"Why the hell does China make so much eggplant?" Jack wondered.

"What are you talking about, now?" Chase asked, not even looking up from his work.

Jack pointed to the screen of his laptop. "It says here that China has the highest output of eggplant worldwide; why so much frickin' eggplant?"

"Perhaps it grows well in the soil and climate," Chase shrugged clearly not caring.

"No, that's too much eggplant," the goth declared. "There's gotta be an ulterior motive."

"Such as?"

"I haven't gotten that far, yet," Jack admitted, "but there's gotta be an angle. Some kind of…amoral aubergine antics going down; probably sometime soon."

"Nigeria has the highest output of yams worldwide," Chase pointed out. "Do you suppose _they_ might be doing something sinister?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Jack snorted, "you can't do evil stuff with yams. _Eggplants,_ on the other hand…"

Chase simply rolled his eyes and let the subject drop.

_**Electric Lime-**_

Chase should've known when he read about the destroyed high school on the news; the very same high school his consort had idly mentioned just the other day, saying most of his old classmates currently went there.

He also should've known when he had not seen said consort for several hours beforehand and had then received a phone call from Sylvia Spicer, disappointed that she could not speak to her son directly, but asking Chase to tell him how proud she was of him.

As it was, he _did_ finally figure it out (embarrassingly late, but even so) when Jack practically pranced through the front door smelling of rubble and flames and most prominently, limes as he sang, "The Citrus Bomber strikes again!"

_**Fern-**_

"Fuck!"

Both Chase and Kimiko froze in the midst of climbing, eyes immediately on the goth genius from whence the scream had come.

Jack, for his part, was in a crouching position, clutching his leg and wincing; obviously in pain.

"Spicer," Chase called, his grip on the vine not faltering in the slightest, "what have you done to yourself, now?"

Jack reluctantly moved his hand so he could get a better look at the source of his pain. Even from this distance, Chase could see that the hand was covered with blood. "I think I cut my leg on a tree branch or something," he admitted.

"You _think?_" Kimiko wondered incredulously.

"Fuck you, I wasn't exactly looking at it," Jack snapped at her, trying to stand up in order to better intimidate her, only for it to fail miserably as he hissed and collapsed back to the ground. "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow," he whimpered, "that _hurts!_"

Kimiko nearly snickered, but the amusement was quickly forgotten as across from her, Chase let go of his vine and fell several hundred feet straight down.

"Hey," she exclaimed, "where are _you_ going? What about the Showdown?"

Chase ignored her utterly and landed perfectly gracefully, standing and making a beeline for Jack.

Even as he did so, the landscape behind him shifted back to normal, the vines setting Kimiko down on the ground and dropping the Shen Gong Wu before receding into normal vines again. The Xiaolin female idly claimed it, even as her fellow monks cheered behind her and came up for congratulations.

Chase was quickly at Jack's side, tearing away his pant leg and forcing his hands aside in order to get a good look at the wound.

"This is _deep,_ Jack," he said. "How could you have managed to cut yourself so deep on a _branch?_"

"I dunno," Jack shrugged, sheepish. "I'm good at getting hurt?"

"You certainly are." Chase removed one of his gloves, using it to soak up the excess blood and improve his look at the large cut. "It will get infected if I don't sterilize it," he warned. "This is going to hurt."

Jack hissed as Heylin magic tingled through the torn flesh, continuing to sting long after the actual magic had dissipated. Grimacing, he watched as his overlord tore a nearby fern leaf from the ground and began wrapping it around his injury.

"Isn't that unhygienic?" he wondered. "I don't want you to have to sterilize my wound again."

Chase shook his head. "Ferns are used in a variety of medicines meant to treat cuts. They also make good bandages if nothing else is available; I'll replace it with a _real_ bandage when we get home, but this will do for now."

Jack was quiet as Chase finished wrapping the gash, frowning. "What about the Wu?" he eventually asked. "I made you lose it..."

"You didn't _make_ me do anything," Chase calmly assured. "I have little use for Shen Gong Wu, anyways."

"But—"

"Hush," Chase ordered, lifting his consort into his arms and standing, momentarily teleporting he and Jack back to the palace.

The monks were too busy celebrating to notice their departure _or_ the quiet, "Aww…!" from Kimiko.

_**Forest Green-**_

Chase had half a mind to begin purring as his consort tenderly brushed his hair for him in long, luxurious strokes that perfectly matched the long, luxurious locks.

"Chase?" said consort spoke up.

"Yes, xin aí?" the dragonlord prompted, practically humming for all the warmth in his tone.

"Do you dye?"

Chase opened his eyes. "My hair?" he wondered. "No. I keep it clean, obviously, but beyond that, it is untreated."

"Really?" Jack's tone was somewhere in between skeptical and surprised, even as he continued to gently brush tangles out of his master's silky hair. "I mean, the color…"

"What?"

"Well, it's black," Jack acknowledged, "but it's like…it shines _green._"

Chase hardly seemed concerned. "Yes, I know," he said. "What of it?"

Jack laid down the brush, finished with his task. "I've heard of 'so black, it's blue' hair, but 'so black, it's green'?"

"It's a latent effect of imbibing Lao Máng Lóng," Chase shrugged, "and of being a soulless monster, in general. It's similar to my slit pupils and pointed ears: a small visual cue that I am not entirely human, though I do look it."

"So…it's _natural,_" Jack concluded, though he still sounded a mite dubious.

"As natural as the color of _your_ hair," Chase assured. "We _both_ know how real it is thanks to that napalm orange firebush of yours. Perhaps the next time you find yourself down there, you can check for yourself just how real _my_ hair color is."

Stunned by the use of the word, 'firebush' from his overlord's mouth, Jack simply sat on the bed in shock as Chase laughed and went to change clothes.

_**Fuchsia-**_

"You may cease your efforts now, Chase Young," Omi declared. "You shall not win!"

Chase merely smirked, cool as a cucumber. "I beg to differ, young monk," he said. "I think you'll find the Heylin victorious this day."

"Never," said Omi quite boldly. "I challenge you to a Xiaolin Sh—"

He was quite soundly cut off as Chase deftly untied his sash, swept aside his armor skirting, and dropped his pants, revealing a bright, practically-fluorescent fuchsia man-thong that perfectly highlighted his…masculine attributes.

Kimiko collapsed immediately with a massive nosebleed. Omi could've very well been made of stone, for he remained utterly frozen and staring. Raimundo was crying hysterically about a sudden onset of blindness while Clay merely tipped his hat to conceal his bright red blush as he muttered incoherently about banana hammocks.

Chase, unconcerned of his partial nudity, stepped forward and simply took the newly active Shen Gong Wu, even as a cackling Jack came out of hiding.

"Oh, my god," he giggled helplessly, "I can't believe you did that!"

"You asked me to," Chase reminded, only smirking as a wayward, white hand found its way to his bare buttocks. "And it _is_ our anniversary."

"Only two years," Jack said, quite enjoying the handful.

Chase's hand came around and goosed his consort, as well. "Which reminds me, when do I get to see the color of yours…?"

"Soon as you wanna," chirped Jack. "Spoiler alert: it's _all_ the colors."

Chase grinned. "A rainbow thong? For me?"

"Whenever you're ready to taste the rainbow, baby," his lover winked.

Needless to say, they did not remain on the site of the almost-battle much longer.

_**Fuzzy Wuzzy-**_

Sitting at his computer, utterly bored, Jack sighed and rested his cheek in his hand. It was an utterly dull and tedious task he now performed, but it was necessary.

The hard drive of his master computer was finally running out of storage space and _something_ had to be gotten rid of to make room. Unwilling to delete old blueprints and plans (because what if they became useful for an idea later?) and not yet desperate enough to remove the many pages of comics he had stored (because those were _necessary_ after a hard day, dammit!), Jack had gone searching through his files to find the third biggest waste of space.

Said waste of space had been found to be old security footage from the Spicer mansion. Even when he had still lived there, the video files had been fairly useless: he never really checked them unless he needed to know precisely what had been going on in his lab between a set time period to make sure no one had stolen the Wu he kept there, and the cameras certainly never deterred anyone from breaking in.

Now that he lived here, in the Land of Nowhere, the files were completely worthless.

Jack's first instinct had been to delete them all immediately, and most of them, he had. However, he had decided to keep and go through several other files, namely ones that had recorded interaction with other people: Wuya, the monks, Bean, and even Chase.

In terms of the first three groups, the footage had been weeded through for informational purposes and anything that wouldn't help him study fighting style or learn their weaknesses was duly purged. As for Chase, Jack had decided to take a trip down memory lane, so to speak, and reaffirm for himself how much _better_ things were now that Chase didn't hate his guts.

Unfortunately, he was incredibly bored.

The video Jack currently watched was uneventful, essentially just himself working in the lab into the early hours of the morning (as he often did). There was no Chase, as the file grouping had promised, and he had been watching himself sketch up a machine's design for the last twenty minutes.

_Boring._

A blank expression on his face, Jack watched as the past-him fell asleep on his work table sometime around 6:00 AM and he sighed, reaching for his mouse to delete the footage. Chase was obviously not going to show up in this one, now: it must've been mislabeled.

He took hold of the mouse and hovered his cursor over the 'x' in the corner of the video that would close it so he could remove it completely.

Jack stopped and pulled his hand back as Chase abruptly popped up onscreen.

_Not mislabeled, after all,_ he thought, _but why don't I remember this?_

Jack had no recollection whatsoever of being woken up by Chase and asked for something on this date, for that was surely what the tiny video-Chase was about to do. Expression firm, mouth open and prepared to speak, the dragonlord had clearly wanted something from his biggest fan.

Instead, he paused and took in the sight of Jack sleeping on his desk, clearly exhausted and with even darker marks than usual under his eyes. Past-Chase frowned before making an utterly blank face and stepping forward.

Jack stared wide-eyed at the video as Chase easily scooped him up and walked out of the lab, headed upstairs. Though shocked, he still had enough presence of mind to minimize the video and find camera footage from the same date and time that had taken shots of the rest of the mansion.

Through several cameras, Jack watched a younger version of himself be carried through the house before finally reaching his bedroom and being set down on the bed. Then-Chase proceeded to pull off his boots and socks and strip him of his belt and jacket before tucking him in and tightly closing the shades against the sunlight. Chase returned to the bed and stared at the sleeping Jack for a long moment before reaching down and brushing a stray lock of hair from his face.

The video feed wavered, a side effect of magic use around technology, and when it cleared, Chase was gone, leaving Jack in bed to wake up many hours later and casually wander downstairs for night-breakfast.

Jack of the current time closed the file and stared at the screen for several long moments.

Then, he stood and left the room in search of his master.

Said master was found quickly, reading in his study. The book was shut and put down almost immediately when Jack caught hold of Chase's head and kissed him as hard and deep as he was able.

Looking both surprised and pleased, Chase pulled back. "What was that for?" he wondered.

"I was checking some old security footage," Jack said. "I saw the morning you tucked me in, back before I was your consort. You hated me…or at least didn't like me very much…but you…" He trailed off and just kissed Chase again, expressing his feelings as such.

Chase kissed back and snorted. "You're so easily flattered, xin aí," he purred, nonetheless happy to lean up into another kiss.

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

**A/N: THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS. Here is a status-update on this project, listing each segment by its Collection name (all of which can be found on good ol' Wiki, if you're interested):**

**STANDARD - Begun, not finished.**

**SILVER SWIRLS - To be written.**

**MAGIC SCENT - To be written.**

**GEM TONES - Excluded: nearly all colors touched on in Gems of Chack.**

**CHANGEABLES - Excluded: too specific.**

**COLOR MIX-UP - To be written.**

**PEARL BRITE - Excluded: too difficult to write for colors that all include the word 'pearl.'**

**CRAYONS WITH GLITTER - Excluded: too specific.**

**METALLIC FX - To be written.**

**SILLY SCENTS - To be written.**

**HEADS 'N TAILS - To be written.**

**TRUE TO LIFE - To be written.**

**EXTREME TWISTABLES - To be written.**

**Another installment in what I believe to be a relatively short amount of time! Go, me! XD**

**Still in the Standard Collection, folks, and it's gonna be awhile before we're out, so...sit tight, I guess. ;P**

**For now, enjoy Standard colors C through F; thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! :D**


	3. S: G to M

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Gold-**_

From the very moment he had freed Wuya from her puzzle box, Jack had felt…watched.

It was a subtle, but constant feeling since meeting the witch and consequently joining the ranks of Heylin, and from the first day of his new life on, Jack had never once felt physically alone.

At first, it had concerned him quite a bit and he wondered quite often if he might be in danger from some unknown force that wished him harm; in the worst case scenario, at least. He also wondered a lot at the beginning if he hadn't acquired a Peeping Tom of some kind.

However, all checks of security cameras and sensors on the Spicer estate proved, beyond a reasonable doubt, that there was no one and nothing on the premises.

It was around this time that Jack decided to shrug off the feeling as misplaced paranoia. After all, he had just taken his first step into _true_ villainy: he had arch nemeses and everything! Likely it was just nerves making him overly suspicious.

So, The Feeling was disregarded and though it never completely left, Jack became used to it and became able to focus despite it.

A month or so went by, with little success for Jack, but he was not disheartened by his failures. If Saturday morning cartoons had taught him anything, it was that even the coolest of villains had more losses than victories and persevered anyways, continuing to come out with creative new plots and devices no matter _how_ many times they were beaten down.

Such thoughts were running through his head as he woke up from a monk-related nightmare one late evening and left the comfort of his spacious king-sized bed for a glass of water.

Of course, he could've called one of his robots to perform the task, but after the nightmare, sleep wouldn't be coming too easy again and Jack felt he might as well try to calm himself down by making the trip himself.

Out the door, down several flights of stairs, through richly decorated hallways, and past at least a dozen dark and empty rooms and Jack finally reached the kitchen. Even as he grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water, his thoughts fell on The Feeling for the first time in what seemed like awhile.

It was a surprise to realize that it was still there should he try to actively notice it. Even more surprising was the fact that it seemed to be…_stronger_ than usual; right now, at least.

Instinctively, Jack glanced around the dark kitchen, making _sure_ that no one was watching.

The kitchen was empty.

Deciding there was nothing to be done about it, Jack reluctantly shrugged it off and returned to his room.

Back past the rooms, back through the hallways, back up the stairs, and back through the door, Jack had just managed to force his uneasiness to the back of his mind before he caught sight of the glowing, golden eyes watching him from the shadows.

He saw them only for a second, as they were gone the moment he blinked, but it was enough time for complete, primal terror to freeze him utterly and essentially shut down his thought processes.

By the time Jack 'rebooted,' so to speak, he found he had dropped his glass of water and made it to the light switch, illuminating the bedroom completely.

For some reason, he would've liked it better if there'd been some sort of raving lunatic in his room than absolutely no one and nothing, but a look around quite assured Jack that the room was empty barring himself and the broken glass on the floor.

He checked under the bed and in the closet for good measure, anyways, and did not get back to sleep that night.

Perhaps a year or two passed after that fateful incident and still, the 'watched' feeling remained, though blessedly, the eyes had not been seen again. Jack continued to make very little progress in the ways of evil, but yet remained chipper about the whole thing, figuring he had just not yet gotten the hang of it and would eventually become a cool, seasoned villain.

It was around this time that Jack was pleased to make the acquaintance of his idol and biggest inspiration to become Heylin in the first place, Chase Young.

It really was too bad that he was too star-struck at the time of the meeting to realize the striking familiarity of the warlord's eyes.

Without truly noticing it, The Feeling changed for Jack and before long, he recognized it for what it was: Chase. The only problem was that his mind did not connect the two, identical feelings as one, keeping them quite separate. To Jack, there was The Feeling, which was something weird that had happened in his youth, and then there was Chase, who would sometimes watch him; perhaps to keep tabs on his evildoings as he likely did with other Heylin, as well.

Said evildoings, however, were hardly going great and Jack was beginning to get discouraged by the whole affair. He was not, after all, getting the hang of things and occasionally knowing Chase was watching him only caused him to mess up _more._ He knew a teacher would come quite in handy; someone to show him the ropes of being Heylin and instruct him in matters of evil, but none were forthcoming.

Eventually, Jack resolved to surrender entirely.

He did not want to; still wanted to be skilled in this whole villain thing and one day conquer the world, just as he'd _always_ wanted, but Jack was at the end of his rope: he couldn't take anymore failure and he knew his next loss could break him.

In a move that proved to be the best thing he could've done, Jack decided to go for broke. He quite literally had nothing to lose and was going to give up, anyways, so why not take one last crazy shot?

Jack threw caution to the wind and went to see Chase.

For once, the door made no attempt to crush him on the way inside and Jack had an audience with the mighty dragonlord. Completely unafraid, he laid himself bare before Chase, explaining how sick he was of sucking and losing all the time.

Unlike the many other times he had come to Chase asking to be taught, Jack did not beg: instead, he offered. He calmly told Chase all he would give him if the warlord chose to teach him: his fortune, his base of operations, every device he had ever created, and himself, mind, body, and soul would be given over immediately should Chase want it.

"Why do you make this offer, Spicer?" Chase asked him. "Why do you ask to give me everything?"

"Because it all means nothing if I don't know how to use it right—myself included," said Jack.

Chase was silent, inspecting him. Then, he stood.

Jack wondered idly if he was about to be killed.

Chase approached Jack and stood before him, meeting his eyes directly. They were of equal height now. "You understand," he said coolly. "You know what it means to be an apprentice, and so you shall be one."

Jack stared at him, admittedly surprised. "You actually _want_ me as an apprentice?" he asked. "Even after all the times you turned me down before?"

"I have _always_ wanted you as an apprentice, Jack," said Chase, "but you weren't ready for what I had to teach you. You were overconfident and failed to understand that to learn from someone else, you must realize that you _have_ to. It's taken quite a bit of waiting, but you seem to understand, now."

"Waiting…?"

Chase gave Jack an enigmatic smile, his golden eyes giving off a familiar glow. He walked around his new apprentice, his steps echoing even as he brushed a hand along Jack's shoulder and made him shiver.

"I've waited for you quite a long time, Jack," he said from behind the youth, his lips _just_ touching the shell of his ear, "and I have always watched…"

_**Goldenrod-**_

A pleased and confident Chase Young watched from the sidelines as his consort stepped bravely forward, ready to challenge the Xiaolin monks for the Wu they had just found.

Jack easily slipped into the subtle fighting stance his master had taught him, put on a bold and self-assured expression, and opened his mouth to declare something witty and evil and intimidating.

"Do not even bother, Jack Spicer," said Omi quite loudly before his opponent could say a word. He raised the Wu in question, something that looked like a gilded Japanese bō, high above his head. "You shall only be forced to submit beneath the power of my Golden Rod!"

Jack made a noise that could only be described as a 'sporfle.' Chase had a feeling that today was not the day Jack would be showing the monks how greatly he had improved in the ways of battle.

For his part, Omi blinked, confused by the noise. "What is funny?" he wondered aloud. "I merely meant to warn you that with the awesome might of my Golden Rod, you have no hope of topping me. You might as well begin sucking my toes, now!"

A wincing Kimiko was already correcting the mangled idiom to, 'kissing my feet,' but the damage had been done, and Jack was laughing even _harder._ Chase was now _certain_ that Jack would not be showing off today.

In light of that, the warlord decided some input of his own couldn't hurt.

"For the record," he declared loudly for both Jack and the monks to hear, "my golden rod is both larger and more powerful. Therefore, _I_ am the only one who shall be topping Spicer and if he should choose to suck anyone's toes, it will be mine."

Jack was officially gone, at that point and duly buried his face in his hands, to cover both the redness of his cheeks and the tears that were beginning to stream down them.

"I didn't know you were into that kinda thing, Chase!" teased Raimundo, hoping to embarrass the everlord.

It definitely did not work, for Chase merely glanced at him and said, "You've clearly never had Spicer's talented tongue on your golden rod, young man. If you had, you would know to appreciate it wherever it chooses to wander."

Kimiko snorted with laughter at the look on Rai's face while Clay tried desperately to pretend he was back on the farm feeding horses, branding livestock, shoveling out the stables—literally _anywhere_ else but here.

Jack collapsed, now, practically dying of hilarity. Chase decided it would be good to get his dearest consort home before he laughed himself into a coma and pulled the youth up, preparing to teleport them back to the palace. The Golden Rod wasn't so useful that they _needed_ to win it, after all.

Omi, however, managed to get in one last parting shot as they left.

"Wait," he exclaimed, "don't go! I have already raised my Rod for you!"

Jack continued to howl with laughter well after the scene of the battle was departed.

_**Granny Smith Apple-**_

"You're…feeding them," Chase declared, his tone incredulous.

Jack continued to peel and core the apple, not looking up from his task. "Sure," he shrugged, "why not?"

Ignoring the obvious answers to that question, which numbered many, Chase glanced at the veritable horde that had gathered below the two of them. "Aren't you concerned for your safety?" he had to wonder. "They _can_ climb, you know."

Jack shook his head. "We've come to an agreement," he assured his master. "They know I'll feed 'em if they're just a little patient for me to clean these up for 'em."

"…How long has this been going on?" Chase demanded.

"Six or seven months, give or take," Jack said. "I've even named them!"

Chase watched as his consort finished with the apple and set aside the knife. "Vicious," he called over the edge of the cliff, "yours is first!"

One squirrel separated herself from the herd and leapt up for her apple as it was tossed down, proceeding to munch upon it quite happily as her tail twitched behind her.

Jack turned to his overlord. "Vicious likes hers peeled and her favorites are the red ones, but Bitey is next," he informed, pulling a green apple from his basket. "Bitey likes Granny Smiths, and he prefers the skin and core left alone. After him is Rabies, though, and she won't touch anything that isn't Braeburn; she likes to roast hers a little beforehand, so if you see her start to breathe fire, that's natural."

Chase looked again at the pack of squirrels below, hungry and waiting for apples, before returning his baffled gaze to his lover.

What an _odd_ consort he had…

_**Gray-**_

Chase could really only take so much staring with passive silence before he asked the inevitable, "What are you looking at, Jack?"

Jack met his gaze head-on. "I was just wondering what you might look like older."

Chase instinctively frowned at the word. "Older?" he echoed, making a face as if merely saying it had left a foul taste in his mouth.

"Sure," said his consort, seeming unbothered by it, "you're frozen at, like, what, eighteen, nineteen? Something like that. Haven't _you_ ever thought about what you'd look like if you were older?"

"No," Chase replied immediately. "I prefer _not_ to think about it. I chose agelessness for a reason, Spicer, and that is because I prefer to remain young and in my prime forever. The thought of being old and gray and decrepit is disgusting to me."

Jack tilted his head at his everlord. "Not all gray," he decided eventually. "Maybe threaded with a little silver here and there…"

A white hand reached out and combed through Chase's hair before cupping his chin, holding it still so Jack could consider his face. "A few frown lines…some crow's feet…nah," said Jack eventually, "you'd actually be pretty handsome in your mid-to-late thirties; distinguished."

Chase leaned back, pulling away from his consort's hand with a sneer on his young, wrinkle-free face. "If it interests you that much," he said, "I'll be sure to let you know if I ever start aging."

Jack shrugged. "I'm not _that_ interested; it's just a passing thought." He was quiet again for a brief moment. Then, "What do you think _I'd_ look like older?"

"What?"

"You know," Jack said. "What d'you think I'd look like at…thirty-five or something? I've seen myself _really_ old, but…what do you think about the in between?"

Chase gave Jack a long, hard look, attempting to indulge his lover and consider it. He had lived for centuries and seen thousands of people age and die, and so he was confident of the accuracy of the mental picture he was getting; of a middle-aged Jack with a beginning-to-recede, gray-streaked hairline and already deep laugh-lines, frown-lines _and_ crow's feet from his frequent and many facial expressions.

He stopped there and shuddered. "I'd rather _not_ think about the in between," he told Jack, continuing to look at his consort's face, but this time to assure himself of its current youthfulness rather than its potential for aging. "You and I are the same, now: we _won't_ age and I would rather not waste time thinking on disgusting what-ifs that will never come to be. We are young and lovely and shall be until the end of time."

Jack smiled, seeming happy to drop the subject, now. "You're right," he warmly declared. "It's better that we're good-looking young people. I'll bet old-people sex is gross!"

And with that, he leant in for a kiss.

_**Green-**_

"Don't go yet!" Jack exclaimed, sitting up. "I gotta get dressed!"

"Spicer," Chase said.

He was ignored as the covers were tossed aside and Jack began listing off the things he needed to do. "Gotta find my trench coat," he was muttering.

"Spicer," Chase said again.

"Gotta get my helipack out of the lab," Jack continued, still not hearing his master, "_maybe_ a quick shower if I could swing it…"

"Jack."

"I might be able to get away with not brushing my teeth, but then, I'll be tasting grossness the whole time…"

"_Jack,_" Chase snapped, done with being ignored. "You aren't coming."

Jack stared at him, dumbstruck. "Whuh…Why the hell not?"

Chase snorted. "Look at yourself," he invited as an answer.

Jack considered himself briefly. Greasy hair, sallow complexion, dark circles beneath his eyes that he just _knew_ were there…

Admittedly, he was not looking his best, but for someone who'd just gotten run over by the flu bug, he figured he was looking pretty damn good!

"So what?" Jack demanded. "Just 'cause I was sick, I can't go with you?"

"'Was?'" Chase echoed. "You _are_ sick, Jack. You need to rest. Wuya and I can handle a Showdown alone."

At that, Jack swung his legs over the side of the mattress and began to stand. "No, you can't," he matter-of-factly informed his overlord, "Wuya'll fuck something up. I _have_ to go with you, now."

Chase easily saw the hint of green that tinged Jack's face as the too-fast movement upset his still-weak stomach and the way his knees looked all too ready to buckle beneath him.

Jack yelped as he was suddenly swept off his feet and put back on the bed, tucked in for extra emphasis. "You aren't going," Chase insisted. "You're far too ill to be out of bed, no matter how jealous you are."

Jack, in the midst of trying to kick off the covers, froze. "…jealous?"

"I'm not an idiot, Jack," Chase pointed out. "I saw the way you reacted when I mentioned the witch: you're jealous of her."

Jack frowned, biting his lip. "You have _history,_" he said eventually. "Shouldn't I be?"

Chase scoffed. "Not at all. Yes, we have a history, but it is hardly a pleasant one; mostly filled with betrayals and other such backstabbing. For the moment, she is useful to me and so, she is an ally—nothing more."

"But I—"

"Jack," Chase said, brushing a bit of red hair away from his consort's pale face, "I have only made use of Wuya physically a few times, enough to be counted on only one hand. She has never held the position that you do and she never will. You have nothing to worry about."

Chase pressed a kiss to Jack's forehead and pulled back, heading for the door. "I must go, but do consider this: I would never once allow Wuya to stay in my home completely unsupervised, much less in my bedroom."

Jack stared after him as he left and eventually settled down to sleep off what was left of this dumb flu. Chase probably wouldn't allow anything to happen with the witch, after all.

Probably.

_**Inchworm-**_

"Kill it!"

"Why? It's only an inchworm."

"It's _creepy._ Normal things don't move like that!"

"It can't help the way it moves. It only has legs on its ends; not in the middle. It _has_ to loop like that."

"I don't care. I don't like it."

"It'll be a moth soon enough. Then, it won't move like that."

"'Soon enough' _isn't_ soon enough! Kill it _now._"

"Why can't you?"

"Spicer, this is _my_ palace and you are _my_ minion and I _order_ you to kill it _now!_"

A sigh, followed by a squish. "Happy?"

"Yes."

_**Indigo-**_

Chase stretched, using only the barest flicker of his power to kill the lights in the room before sliding into bed and getting comfortable.

Almost immediately, he was assailed by a warm body and dragged down amongst the sheets for a good cuddle. Chase allowed this to happen and cuddled back, quite satisfied to nuzzle against his affectionate and clearly happy consort.

"How was your day, Jack?" he asked of the youth, who pulled back at the question.

"Good," Jack declared, the smile on his face seeming to prove it. "I got a lot of stuff done in the lab today. What about you?"

"My day was also productive," Chase decided. "Many evil plans were plotted and many evil plots were planned; the usual."

Jack snickered and snuggled in close to his lover again, ready for their nightly game to begin. Often, as they lie together waiting for sleep to come (and not in the mood for sex, for whatever reason), master and consort would simply talk randomly; about whatever came to mind. The game would end when one of them fell asleep and ceased talking.

Tonight, it was Chase who spoke first. "Do you have any plans?" he asked. "Beyond generic evil, of course."

Jack considered it briefly. "Not really," he admitted, "although, I do have something weasel-related in the works that I've been wanting to use. Maybe I can do something with that."

Jack then allowed his mind to wander for a moment before he found something he wished to ask. "When did you decide that you wanted me to be your consort?" he wondered.

"Your eighteenth birthday," Chase replied immediately. "I'd had my eye on you for awhile before that, but I'm not sexually interested in children. When did it occur to you that you wanted to _be_ my consort?"

Jack smiled. "The second you asked: I didn't know the position even _existed_ until you offered it to me. If I had, though…probably a month or two after we first met."

"You had feelings for me that far back?" Chase sounded somewhat surprised.

Jack found that surprise ridiculous. "Well, come on," he said, "I _was_ all over you and I was staggering through the last bit of puberty, if you'll recall. My hormones were getting on me to figure out what I wanted and then you showed up, and boom—there you have it: my personal standard of sexiness in men."

It was invisible to Jack in the dark, but Chase found himself smirking, anyways. "High standard," he mused.

"I've always aimed high," his consort chuckled. "What about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"Y'know," Jack said, "when'd you figure out you were gay?"

Chase did not answer, merely stared at Jack in the dark.

"Well, _I_ figured out I was gay maybe a week after I met you," Jack explained. "Up until then, I'd been trying to be straight and like girls like I was supposed to, but it wasn't working out so well. Then, you came along and within a few days, it just hit me like, 'Ohhhhh, _that's_ why it's not working: I like guys! Preferably of the sexy dragonlord variety. Now, it makes sense!' When did it hit you that you liked guys?"

"It didn't," said Chase, "because I don't."

Jack frowned. "…what?"

"I don't believe I ever said that I was gay," the dragonlord pointed out matter-of-factly. "I can assure you that I'm quite heterosexual."

At this, Jack sat up and allowed the deep blue sheets to pool around his waist. With the moonlight from the windows providing a subtle light-source, Chase mused that the silk looked quite like water; like cool, indigo depths trying to swallow up his consort's lovely body.

He would have to take Jack for a midnight swim, one of these days.

"Chase, you're in bed with another man," Jack said, sounding quite disconcerted. "How can you say you're straight?"

"Because I am," Chase said calmly. "Throughout my entire life, I have always been attracted to females—the opposite sex."

Jack looked worried. "Chase," he said, his tone reflecting the anxiety in his expression, "what are you saying?"

Chase pulled Jack down to the mattress again, holding him close. "Nothing."

"But—!"

"But _nothing,_" said the dragonlord. "You are my consort: the fact that I'm 'straight' doesn't change anything."

"Yes, it does!" Jack exclaimed. "It means you're attracted to women, and that means you're not attracted to men—one of which I am, in case it's slipped your notice!"

"As a rule, yes," Chase allowed, "I am attracted to women and not men. You break that rule."

Jack eyed Chase warily. "How does that work?" he demanded to know.

"I haven't the slightest," shrugged Chase, "but it does work that way, sometimes."

"What works that way?"

"Love." Chase pulled the sheets back up, covering both he and his consort with them once more. "It's not unheard of for sexuality and love not to match up. Homosexual men do sometimes find themselves in love with women, and heterosexual men may occasionally find their soulmate in another man; just as I have found mine in you. It's a common misconception that love will always behave according to one's sexuality when, in fact, the old adage is the most true: love is blind."

Having Spicer as a consort, Chase had come to learn that honesty was the best policy to appease the youth whenever he was upset by something. Jack hated to be lied to and would always handle potentially distressing situations best when he was able to take it at face-value.

This proved especially true, now, as Jack hardly seemed troubled anymore. In fact, he seemed downright blissful as he smiled and cuddled up to his master without protest.

Whether it was being named Chase's soulmate that had appeased Jack or being told that Chase's love for him outweighed the fact that he most frequently found women attractive, Chase wasn't sure, but he found he didn't particularly care.

Jack was happy and silent and with their game ended, Chase buried his nose in Jack's hair and went to sleep.

_**Jazzberry Jam-**_

Chase imagined the sensuous slide of his consort's body was illegal in every American state and in any other autonomous country that even _claimed_ to value decency. He also figured that those tight black pants that so wonderfully hugged the curves of his backside and long, long legs were downright sinful. Perhaps even the dusky raspberry color of his shirt, looking like a fine wine and providing a rich contrast to the stark white, sweat-dampened skin was considered some sort of delicious wrongdoing _somewhere._

Chase knew for _certain,_ however, that those movements; rhythmic and coinciding perfectly with each pulse of music _were_ both sinful and delicious. Such balance and bodily control shown in each twist and turn; such grace in each lunge and pirouette!

Chase had to wonder how such mastery of movement was _possible_ in one usually so clumsy.

Of course, he didn't have much time to wonder about that, for Jack was beckoning with both body and lustful eyes for his master to come dance with him and how could he resist with such beautiful music and such beautiful motion?

_**Jungle Green-**_

"…so of course, I was just about passed out by this time," Jack continued to narrate. "That's when you showed up."

Chase heroically resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Let me guess," he said. "I destroyed your tormentors, rescued you, and then made sweet, sweet love to you."

"Quite the opposite, actually," chirped Jack. "This is dream-world, so real-world logic never kicked in: you never went dragon or used your magic. I'm not even sure dream-you _had_ either of those things."

Chase quirked an eyebrow. "Alright…so, if I didn't save you, what _did_ happen?"

Jack shrugged. "Pretty much the same thing that happened to me, actually," he said, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Except, y'know, it wasn't just the two vines like I had. They pretty much gang-banged you all the way to Bermuda."

"…They did _what?_"

"Oh, yeah," Jack nodded, "they were really into you and you were _loving_ it. That's when I was pretty sure it was a dream 'cause I figured only the dream-you would ever say something like, 'Oh, god, yeah, give it to me, Jungle!'"

Chase stared at Jack for a long, long moment before standing and heading for the closet. "I'm destroying all of that Japanese pornography or yours," he declared. "Your mind can't be trusted with it."

"No!" Jack cried. "Not my hentai!"

_**Laser Lemon-**_

"What?"

Chase continued to glare at his consort silently.

"_What?_" Jack asked again, unsettled by the displeased expression.

"The entire Xiaolin temple, Jack?" Chase demanded.

"Oh, come on, that's evil!" Jack defended himself. "They're our enemies and all of a sudden, I can't level what is essentially their base with a laser beam? What is this world _coming_ to?"

"It's not _what_ you did," said the overlord, "it's _how_ you did it. You powered the laser with _lemons,_ Spicer!"

"I have a reputation to uphold!" Jack exclaimed. "What kind of Citrus Terrorist would I be if I _didn't_ use lemons?"

Chase resisted the very strong urge to begin banging his head against something hard and altogether unyielding.

_**Lavender-**_

"Comfortable?"

Chase reluctantly cracked an eye to find his consort watching over him, looking concerned. He smiled, a perfectly calm and reassuring thing. "More than comfortable," he promised.

It was hard _not_ to be comfortable ensconced in a veritable nest of blankets, head pillowed by only the fluffiest of cushions, and waited on so lovingly by a dedicated lover.

Jack seemed unconvinced. "Are you sure?" he asked. "'cause I could still make some chicken soup, maybe get a movie for you if there's nothing good on TV…"

"Really, Jack," Chase said, "you don't—"

"I'll bet there's not enough flowers in here," the youth continued. "I could get more lavender for the vase; I know you like the smell of lavender…"

"Spicer, I don't need—"

"Pink is a calming color; there's gotta be some kind of spell or something to turn the room pink, if I could just _find_ it—"

"Jack!"

Jack looked over at his bed-ridden master, quite startled by the outburst.

Now that he had his consort's attention, Chase smiled and reached out a hand, cupping Jack's cheek in his palm. "Jack," he said, "I'm fine, truly. It's only a broken leg. Knowing my body's accelerated rate of healing, I'll be able to walk on it again in a day, possibly less."

Jack pouted at him, an adorable look on the goth to be sure. "But…I want to help…" he muttered.

"And you've done a fabulous job of that part," Chase assured, pulling Jack in for a kiss. "Now, join your overlord in bed for a snuggle: Chase Young demands snuggles."

Jack smiled and had half a mind to laugh as he climbed into bed with Chase. "Yes, master…"

_**Lemon Yellow-**_

Omi gaped at the completely destroyed temple, shocked and horrified by the extensive damage.

"Our home," the yellow monk cried in distress, "it is _rubble!_"

His fellow monks bowed their heads behind him, understanding the severity of the tragedy.

Omi sniffed. "…and yet…it smells so lemony fresh!"

_**Macaroni and Cheese-**_

"Stop it," Jack ordered.

Chase raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Stop it," Jack said again, "I know what you're thinking. Stop it."

"Jack, I haven't said a word to you," Chase pointed out.

Jack scoffed. "You're criticizing me," he said, putting on his very best impression of his overlord as he continued, "'Spicer, that's absolutely disgusting! _How_ can you eat that slop? You _do_ know cheese isn't supposed to be fluorescent orange, don't you?'"

Chase merely stared.

"Well, y'know what?" Jack said sharply. "It's comfort food, okay? Mac and Cheese has been a classic since I was a kid and I _like_ it and y'know what else? It may not be fine cuisine, but that doesn't mean it's totally worthless."

"I _never_ said—"

"You were _thinking_ it," Jack declared, pushing his chair back and standing with his bowl of food and glass of milk. "I'm going to eat in my room, where picky, gourmet dragonlords won't judge my 'awful taste in food.'"

Chase watched him go, somewhat bemused by the fact that Jack had gotten _so_ good at reading him, he hadn't even had to say a word to start an argument.

_**Magenta-**_

"Mom, I _really_ don't wanna do this…"

"Nonsense, Jackie," Sylvia smiled, patting her son's arm. "Jean-Claude is one of those up-and-coming designers and you need a new wardrobe!"

"What's wrong with my clothes?" Jack whined.

"They're fine for those…Showdown-thingies of yours, sweetie," Mrs. Spicer said. "You need loose and comfortable clothing that you can move in and still look evil, and those work just fine for that, but what about when you're Emperor of the Globe? You need to look evil _and_ cultured, or what kind of fear will you inspire in your enemies?"

Jack pouted and did not reply, merely following his mother into the boutique.

"Sylvia, darling!" a male (though questionably so) voice exclaimed almost immediately, and Mrs. Spicer found herself enveloped in a hug and kissed on each cheek. "You made it!"

"Well, I _did_ make the appointment," Sylvia giggled. "Jean-Claude, I'd like to introduce you to my son, Jack; we're here for him, today."

Jack quite suddenly found himself scrutinized by the fashion designer and resisted the urge to take a step back and glare, like he usually did when inspected so critically.

After a moment, the examination seemed finished. "Sylvia," Jean-Claude spoke sincerely, "you did the right thing in coming here. Your boy _needs_ my help."

Jack scoffed, feeling quite affronted by that tone of voice even as his mother laughed.

"Yes, well," she was saying, "Jackie is an up-and-comer himself, so I figured who better to get to design his wardrobe than a rising star like you?"

Jean-Claude laughed, too, and was quickly on Jack, who barely restrained the scathing comments he wished to make regarding personal space as his measurements were taken.

"A bit skinny for a boy, isn't he?" Jean-Claude wondered of Mrs. Spicer, apparently finding Jack's girth lacking.

"Hey!" Jack exclaimed, offended. "I'm svelte!"

"So is Kate Moss, dear," Jean-Claude said. "Men shouldn't have such feminine physiques; it makes it difficult to fit you for an existing design!"

"I _do_ try to get him to eat more, but his metabolism is just too fast for me!" Sylvia chuckled. "I could bake him a whole cake and he could eat every last piece, but the weight would just slide right off him."

Jack gaped. "Mom, don't _agree_ with him!"

His mother was not given a chance to reply. "No matter!" Jean-Claude declared. "I shall simply have to design something new; something _edgy_ and daring to really put both of us on the map!"

Jack did not like the sound of that and warily eyed the designer that seemed to be circling him like a bird of prey.

"Something has to be done to feature that pale skin," the man said. "We'll need something…bright and colorful! And that hair and those eyes… Yes, it shall have to be magenta!"

Jack could've sworn he'd heard the sound of a record skipping. "…magenta?" he echoed, hoping that wasn't what had been said.

"Of course!" Jean-Claude laughed. "It shall be perfect! A suit of magenta for the soon-to-be debonair, young entrepreneur!"

Jack stepped back. "Oh, hell, no," he sneered, "that's not happening. Do not touch me, you clearly know nothing about anything, much less fashion."

Jean-Claude raised an eyebrow at him. "_Please,_ sweetheart," he said, "I am an _artiste_ of fashion. I know more about clothing than you _ever_ will."

"Bitch," Jack scoffed, "I _know_ what a color-wheel looks like: red, red-orange, and magenta are _next_ to each other, not across, and there is no way those colors are different enough from each other that an analogous color scheme is gonna work."

"Darling, from what I've heard, your only talent is making little robot toys. Kindly leave _real_ genius to the _real_ geniuses!"

Sylvia frowned. "Oh, dear," she said. "You haven't been reading the news, lately, have you, Jean-Claude?"

Immediately, the designer was simpering, not wanting to displease his richest and most prestigious client. "Whatever do you mean, Sylvia darling?"

"I mean that my son _is_ a genius," she informed proudly. "Quite an evil one, too—he's been terrorizing the public with explosives made from citrus fruit!"

Wanting to preen at his mother's praise, Jack reined in the urge and merely shrugged. "It's a fun gimmick," he said. "I _dare_ you to find another 'genius' who could make a bomb out of a lime."

Jean-Claude, unfortunately, was not impressed. "Oh," he seemed to sigh, "that was you? Bravo, sweetheart. Now, back to proving to the world how intrepid and bold I am by making you look fabulous in magenta!"

Abruptly, there was a pulse of wicked magic sweeping through the room, one that Jack knew to be very familiar.

"I refuse to fuck a tackily dressed consort," Chase imperiously declared, to which Jack breathed a sigh of relief.

"Someone with sense!" he grinned. "_Thank_ you!"

"You're quite welcome," Chase said, turning to his lover's mother. "Sylvia, from now on, you will _stop_ taking your son to fashion designers who think they have something to prove and no actual _talent._"

Jean-Claude gasped. "You _bitch!_"

Jack's eyes widened. "Oh, you did _not_ just call _my_ man a bitch!" This sentence was accompanied by what could only be described as a 'sassy black lady neck-wobble.'

"Want to make something of it, Casper?" the designer sneered back.

At this, Chase stepped forward, pushing Jack behind him. "You did _not_ insult my consort's skin tone," he growled.

Unfortunately for Jean-Claude, he did not hear the tone of menace and warning in that growl, for he merely snorted. "I can say whatever I _want,_ honey," he claimed. "_I'm_ a fashion star, and—"

He never finished his sentence, for Chase soon became quite busy exercising his murdering-insolent-fools muscles.

During this process, Jack began to wander around the boutique with his mother, idly flipping through racks of clothes. "I dunno," he was murmuring, "I think a black suit is the way to go: classic and elegant. What do you think, mom?"

"I think that's an awful lot of blood," Sylvia said, watching the scene of utter gore going on behind them.

"Yeah, the human body holds a surprisingly large amount of blood," Jack said casually, "but don't worry about that. I want something complimentary for the undershirt…a black tie should still be fine, but with my hair and eyes…something in between green and blue-green; maybe some sort of teal or something else in that vein…" He glanced over at his overlord, currently coated in blood. "Speaking of veins, red is a _really_ nice color on you, Chase. Maybe you should shop with us! I certainly wouldn't mind seeing you in a suit…"

"Hmph," said Chase, still in quite a pouty mood. "That fucker insulted _my_ consort!"

"Yeah, and now he's dead and we both know how terribly wrong he was in was in suggesting that I'm anything but gorgeous. Shop with meeeeee!" Jack whined.

"Yes, please, Chase," Sylvia smiled at her son's significant other, "we'd love it if you'd come along! If I hear any strange sounds in the dressing room while Jackie is trying on clothes," she winked, "I swear I'll look the other way…"

Chase considered this. "Sold!"

_**Magic Mint-**_

Jack took the cup as it was handed to him, raising it to his lips and preparing to drink.

A gloved hand laid over the rim of the cup and gently pressed down, seeing the tea settled on the table.

"What gives?" Jack wondered. "I'm supposed to drink it, aren't I?"

"Yes," Chase said, sitting across from him, "but not immediately. The spell requires you to saturate yourself in it first before drinking."

Jack eyed the cup skeptically. "…there's no way I can take a bath in this," he said.

Chase laughed and shook his head. "Breathe it in," he corrected. "You won't be ready to drink it until you can inhale it calmly."

Jack frowned, wondering how he could do something as simple as smell tea _without_ being calm. Nonetheless, he brought the cup to his nose and took a deep breath…

…only to choke and begin coughing at the sharp, pungent scent that he encountered. "Oh, god," he managed to sputter out, "that's…that's quite abrasive, actually."

Chase only smiled at him. "You'll get used to it," he assured his consort. "In the meantime, speak to me. Tell me what's on your mind."

Jack made a face as he forced himself to keep the cup within smelling distance, despite the fact that it made his nose itch and burn with the need to sneeze. "I dunno," he began, "I guess I'm a little…shocked that you're doing this for me. What the hell is in this thing, by the way? 8,000 pounds of pepper?"

Chase chuckled. "Not nearly that much, but it seems more pungent with the spearmint and ginger in there. Why wouldn't I do this for you?"

"Well, for one, you're an evil dragonlord bent on ruling the world and probably killing thousands of innocents," Jack reminded. "You don't seem like the commitment type."

"Why do you suppose I've been a bachelor for upwards of a thousand years?" Chase wondered, head tilted in question. "I've been waiting for someone I _wanted_ to make a commitment to; someone with similar goals to spend my years with me ruling the world and killing thousands of innocents."

"And…you really think that's me," Jack said less than asked.

"I don't think, I know." Chase reached across the table and laid his hand on Jack's, stroking his wrist with his thumb. "You're a…unique individual, Jack. We have quite a bit in common, but just as much in contrast. As one example, we're both Heylin, but our methods; magic and technology could not be more opposite."

"And that's good?"

Chase nodded. "Couples with too much in common never work out unless both are narcissists in the extreme. No well-adjusted person wishes to kiss and make love to what is essentially themselves."

Jack nodded, too, acknowledging this.

"It rarely works out with complete opposites, either," Chase continued. "The contrast is good for passion, but without any similarities at all, building a life together is impossible, like building a castle on constantly shifting sand."

"So…you're saying we're somewhere in the middle," Jack concluded.

"Precisely. Not too different, not too similar, and we already quite like each other." Chase smirked at his consort. "Hence the reason why I wish to keep you around for the rest of my lifespan."

Jack abruptly remembered the tea in his hands and breathed deeply, realizing that while he found the smell of it unpleasant, his nose had gotten used to it and no longer stung at the scent. He looked at the cup and the liquid within, knowing it contained mint, ginger, pepper, and his overlord's blood, the strange concoction enchanted to tie his brief, mortal existence to Chase's indefinite, immortal one.

Jack smiled at Chase across the table and again raised the magic tea to his lips. "Bottoms up, then…"

_**Mahogany-**_

"Look, Spicer, are you gonna build it for me or not?"

Contrary to Katnappé's expectations, Jack did not cower away and yield the moment she raised her voice. Instead, he met her eyes with a cool, calm, crimson gaze and raised an eyebrow.

"If you're here to threaten me," he said, "I can have you escorted out. If you're here to negotiate with me, _I'll_ escort you to my office."

The villainess scowled. She really didn't want to have to play nice…but she really didn't want to fight any lame robots today, either. "Negotiate," she ground out in response.

At this, Jack smiled, a perfectly cordial thing as he indicated she should follow before turning and walking off.

Suspiciously, Katnappé followed Jack up the stairs and out of the basement lab, allowing herself to be led into what was actually a very lavish office.

Jack walked ahead of her and settled himself behind a large, mahogany desk, crossing one leg over the other and steepling his fingers. "Have a seat," he offered magnanimously, waiting until the young lady did so before continuing. "Now, Ashley—"

"Katnappé," she corrected.

"_Ashley,_" Jack said again, "I understand that you want something built."

"What's with the posh act?" Katnappé demanded.

Jack quirked an eyebrow at her.

"You're acting all high and mighty," she sneered at him. "You're anything but and _everybody_ knows it."

Oddly enough, Jack did not get angry at the implication. "That's your opinion," he said instead. "What is it you want from me, or are you just going to hurl insults at me all day?"

Katnappé scowled. "Don't talk down to me," she hissed, standing bolt upright. "You're a loser, Jack, and I don't have to put up with your shit!"

It was quite surprising for the villainess to be surrounded by at least a dozen robots, completely unrecognizable from the last models she had seen; these ones looking bigger, stronger, and _far_ more dangerous with lasers charged and protruding from their chests.

"I'm not a loser," Jack said in confidence, leaning back in his chair. "I've been getting tips from a real pro in the evil business and as you can see, Ashley, I've stepped up my game quite a bit."

Katnappé seethed, glaring at her current 'host.' "Don't be so confident, Spicer," she ordered. "Your toys might've gotten an upgrade, but _you_ haven't. My claws could slice that desk _and_ you to shreds before your robots could fire a single shot."

Jack grinned. "I wouldn't be so sure about that," he said. "I've been taking fighting lessons and this desk is pretty sturdy." One white hand patted almost affectionately along the mahogany surface. "It's lasted through several fucking sessions, and that's with the thrusting strength of an immortal dragonlord, so…"

The nameless name-dropping had an almost immediate effect. Katnappé's eyes widened and she stared at Jack, clearly startled by the implication. The 'pro' Jack had been taking tips from…was _Chase Young?_

Jack smirked as Ashley dropped back into her seat, looking as harmless as she possibly could rather than run the risk of angering a Heylin warlord by messing with his apprentice.

"That's better," Jack said, his tone all charm and smarm once more. "Now, onto business…"

_**Maize-**_

"Why are we doing this, Jack?" Chase had to wonder.

"Shh, stay quiet!" Jack hissed at him. "We don't wanna get caught!"

"Why not?" Chase demanded. "I can easily teleport us elsewhere."

"That's not in the spirit of things. Just…help me with this."

"Not until you tell me why."

"Because I hate him!" Jack declared. "And because this'll probably piss him off."

Chase folded his arms across his chest. "Spicer, he _quit_ the Xiaolin ten years ago. I can understand harassing Tohomiko and Pedrosa for what they did to you as monks, but—"

"He was just as bad as they were," Jack said. "Even if he didn't do the _worst_ stuff, he still let it happen and what kind of villain would I be if I didn't get _everybody?_"

"A careless one?" Chase guessed.

"Exactly! Now, _help_ me with these stupid cornstalks and I'll do that thing you like later."

The next morning, a dismayed Clay Bailey awoke to a frantic farmhand, crying about how she'd climbed up to fix that leak in the barn roof and had seen an extremely odd crop-circle; one that spelled out, 'HEYLIN RULES, SUCK IT, BAILEY.'

_**Manatee-**_

Chase watched as Jack placed a hand on the glass separating him from the aquatic mammal on the other side.

The manatee seemed delighted by the company, as most of the children that came to visit it at the aquarium were more interested in the sharks and dolphins than they were in the poor, ugly sea-cow. She eagerly swam up to the glass and tilted, allowing a fin to come up relatively near the hand.

"You like manatees?" Chase wondered aloud.

"Since I was little," Jack said, moving his hand and watching as the manatee on the other side tilted the other way to follow it. "At first, I just thought the name was funny 'cause it meant 'boob,' but then I actually learned about them, and they're pretty cool. They're smart like dolphins, but not nearly as violent, and then, I guess there's the kindred spirit vibe going on."

Chase merely raised an eyebrow, waiting for his consort to elaborate.

"Well," Jack did elaborate a moment later, "they're endangered and they get hurt and killed by boats all the time, but nobody really cares that much 'cause they're not cute and cuddly like…Red Pandas or other endangered things."

Chase knew immediately what Jack was talking about in terms of kindred spirit and he came up behind the youth, looping an arm around his waist. "I care if you get hurt or killed," he said firmly, "and I _don't_ care that your beauty isn't of the usual standard."

Jack smiled and took one of his overlord's hands, placing it on the glass opposite his. The manatee saw it and tipped herself the other way to give the second stranger attention, too.

"Thanks," said a much happier Jack.

_**Mango Tango-**_

Chase found himself unable to do little else but stare at the two mangos being paraded around the kitchen table, one dressed in a small tuxedo and the other in a tiny cocktail dress with earrings poked in and a lipstick smile drawn on its skin.

The lively tango music continued to play even as the hands dancing the fruits about froze, their owner fixing Chase with a deer-in-the-headlights stare.

"Chase," Jack said, clearly startled, "uh…this is _exactly_ what it looks like, actually…"

Chase's hand reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and he sighed.

Hopefully, Jack smiled. "Forget this ever happened?" he suggested.

Chase did not hesitate to nod and about-face, walking out of the kitchen as if he had never entered.

Jack gave a sigh of relief and glanced around, making sure nobody _else_ was nearby before allowing the mango couple to resume their romantic tango.

_**Maroon-**_

"_That's the gun that killed R.K. Maroon…_"

"God, she's hot," said Jack.

Immediately, Chase's head whipped around, staring at his consort in borderline-shock.

"…what?" wondered the goth.

"You just declared interest in a female," Chase pointed out. "This coming from…ah, what was the phrase Bailey used…? The gayest gay man to ever gay up Gay Street on a Wednesday?"

Jack snorted, amused at such a sentence from Chase's mouth. "_Everybody_ thinks Jessica Rabbit is hot," he nonetheless explained. "Plus, it helps that I've been thinking of her as a red-headed, big-boobied you."

Chase continued to stare at his lover.

"The resemblance isn't perfect," Jack admitted, "'cause you'd never be a damsel in distress, but the femme fatale part…if you were a chick, I think you could swing it."

"Really?" Chase wondered.

Jack nodded. "Oh, yeah, definitely. You've already got the gorgeous hair and beautiful face, with the deliciously evil and manipulative personality. Slap on some makeup, a dress, and some (maybe more realistically-sized) boobies, and I might go straight for you."

"A female me," corrected the warlord.

Again, Jack nodded, snuggling up against Chase's side and continuing to watch his 'most favoritest movie of all time.'

Chase, however, turned Jack's face to meet his eyes. "If I'm to be Jessica," he said, "would you be my Roger?"

Jack gave another snort of laughter and kissed his overlord. "God, Chase," he giggled, "you're so weird."

Chase chuckled as well, but made a point of flicking Jack on the nose. "You started it, 'honey bunny,'" he reminded.

_**Mauvelous-**_

It was a thorough boredom that had led to Jack's current situation, but he felt the prior boredom was worth it compared to the fun he was having now.

No _wonder_ girls tried on makeup at sleepovers all the time!

Wiping off a hilariously discordant shade of blue lipstick, Jack picked up another tube, this one a dusky shade of pink and applied it, making a kissing noise at himself in the mirror.

Finding this, also, to be amusingly clashing, he laughed, striking a pose and complimenting himself in an exaggerated Eva Gabor impression, "You look _mauvelous,_ dahling!"

Walking by, Chase hardly seemed surprised by the fact that his male consort was wearing makeup. Instead, he merely voice his opinion on it. "That's hardly your shade, Spicer," he said.

Jack turned, still grinning, and leaned in close to Chase, laying a long, loud smooch upon his cheek. He then pulled away and examined the mauve lip-print he had left upon his everlord, appraising it. "Definitely your shade, though," he decided.

Chase laughed and wiped the mark away, letting it stain his glove instead of his cheek. "If you're really that bored, gather up your favorite colors and meet me in the bedroom," he suggested. "We can have a two-man rainbow party."

And with that, he was gone, even as Jack fervently began shuffling through his purloined collection of lipstick.

_**Melon-**_

Jack was practically drooling in want. "So awesome…" he was muttering. "Must have…"

Chase simply looked at the cube-shaped watermelon. "You know," he informed his consort, "they come in a pyramid shape, too."

Jack's jaw dropped. "No fucking way!" he exclaimed.

Chase nodded. "They can be in whatever shape one wants, so long as they're grown into a glass box of that shape."

"Dude," Jack continued to gape. "Need. Buy. Please. Love."

Chase merely laughed and placed the watermelon in the shopping cart, making a mental note to plant a few in the garden in whatever wacky shapes might entertain his consort to such speechlessness.

_**Midnight Blue-**_

Jack shivered lightly, only to quickly be wrapped in his lover's embrace.

"Cold?"

Jack half-shrugged, leaning back against Chase. "A little," he admitted. "I'll be fine."

Chase held his consort tighter, resting his head upon Jack's. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Jack looked up, the enveloping blackness of the night sky spread out before him. It was dotted here and there with distant flecks of light, but that was the only source of illumination, for it was a new moon and the night was otherwise dark.

"It's a little intimidating," he said eventually.

Jack could feel Chase nod in agreement. "I've often thought so," he confessed. "Even one such as I, with all my power and strength, am small in the eyes of the universe. The world beyond our planet is so much bigger than us: we are but specks in a vast and infinite space."

Jack leaned back against his lover. "It seems even…bigger without the moon."

"The moon softens the infinity," Chase agreed. "It draws the focus, makes one marvel at it and forget how dark and endless its backdrop is."

Jack smiled softly. "I'll bet the infinity misses the moon, right now," he said.

"I'm sure it does," Chase surmised, still looking up at the deep and endless stretch of blue. "I miss it now; your skin is always lovely in the moonlight, xin aí."

Jack's smiled widened and he sighed, utterly pleased with his love and his infinity.

_**Mountain Meadow-**_

Chase opened his eyes, startled for a moment to realize he was not in his bed.

Then, he breathed, smelling the crisp, mountain air that made the bright wildflowers all around him bend and sway. It took a lock of his hair and dragged it across Jack's nose, making him sneeze in his sleep and turn to bury his face against his master's chest.

Chase quickly remembered being cajoled into this particular outing; remembered talking and laughing here with Jack until the youth had suggested a midday nap.

With a smile uncharacteristic of one so wicked as he, Chase settled back down against the flowers and grasses, threading his fingers through Jack's hair and drifting off to sleep.

_**Mulberry-**_

"I just…don't get it," Jack admitted. "Make it make sense to me, Chase; you know how I think: explain it."

Chase sighed and thought of the best way to get his consort to be quiet and leave him alone for awhile. Eventually, something came to him and he spoke. "The weasel was just a pawn," he explained, "meant to draw the monkey out of hiding. The weasel had been beforehand affixed to a time-bomb by the monkey's enemies so the monkey could be gotten rid of. The monkey, whose attention span was short, saw the weasel running and chased it, but since weasels aren't very smart, it simply ran around the same mulberry bush over and over again until it exploded and took the monkey out with it—pop goes the weasel."

"Ohhhhh," Jack exclaimed, "_that_ makes sense!" He then kissed Chase on the cheek and practically pranced out of the room. "Thanks!"

Chase merely rolled his eyes and returned to his work.

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

**A/N: THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS. Here is a status-update on this project, listing each segment by its Collection name (all of which can be found on good ol' Wiki, if you're interested):**

**STANDARD - Begun, not finished.**

**SILVER SWIRLS - To be written.**

**MAGIC SCENT - To be written.**

**GEM TONES - Excluded: nearly all colors touched on in Gems of Chack.**

**CHANGEABLES - Excluded: too specific.**

**COLOR MIX-UP - To be written.**

**PEARL BRITE - Excluded: too difficult to write for colors that all include the word 'pearl.'**

**CRAYONS WITH GLITTER - Excluded: too specific.**

**METALLIC FX - To be written.**

**SILLY SCENTS - To be written.**

**HEADS 'N TAILS - To be written.**

**TR****UE TO LIFE - To be written.**

**EXTREME TWISTABLES - To be written.**

**New installment in less than a week! I am _cranking_ these out. ;P**

**Yet more from the Standard Collection: we've got N to Y after this (because there are no Z crayon names _shockingly_), and then I'll be moving onto the other collections.**

**Enjoy the current batch, folks, and thanks for reading! :D**


	4. S: N to P

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Navy Blue-**_

"What would you do if I dyed my hair?"

Chase frowned and slowly looked up from his book. "What?"

Jack was sitting across from him and staring intently. "What would you do if I dyed my hair?" he asked again.

Chase sighed, turning his attention back to the book. "I suppose it would depend on the color," he decided eventually.

"Brown?"

Chase sneered. "Too plain."

Jack tilted his head. "Black?"

His overlord made a thoughtful noise, considering it. "Perhaps," he said. "You would have to be careful not to look like a vampire."

Jack frowned until Chase added, "A _real_ vampire, not those bedazzled knock-offs that are so popular, these days."

Eventually, Jack nodded to himself, seeing Chase's point. "What about blond?"

"Platinum or yellow?"

"Either," shrugged the goth.

"Platinum: too similar to your skin, yellow: it could work, but I don't particularly imagine I'd like it."

"Fair enough," said Jack, falling silent for only a moment. "What about fluorescent colors?"

"Like the current shade?" Chase taunted.

Jack snorted. "Oh, ha, ha," he said. "What if I dyed my hair, like, green?"

"I would tease you endlessly and call you Christmas," Chase declared. "I would also make Christmas-related jokes in bed until you changed it back."

"Christmas-related jokes?"

Chase shrugged. "'I thought Christmas only came _once_ a year,' 'I'm dreaming of a white Christmas,' 'I guess I'm not too old for Christmas, after all,' and that's just off the top of my head. I could think of more, if need be."

Jack winced. "Okay, nix that," he muttered. "Navy blue?"

"Fourth of July teasing," Chase said.

"Damn," Jack cursed, "the red and white's really working against me, here. What about purple?"

Chase looked up and eyed his consort. "Maybe," he allowed. "I could see it, but I would prefer it if you find a way to dye _all_ of your hair should you choose purple. Purple drapes are all well and good, but a red-orange carpet makes them a bit discordant."

Jack laughed at this. "Maybe I should just stick with the color I've got, huh?"

"Au naturel is often the way to go," Chase grinned, happily returning to his book.

_**Neon Carrot-**_

"Spicer…what…?"

Jack followed his overlord's gaze to the carrot on his lab table, giving off a pulsing glow that easily illuminated the whole basement.

"I was starting to feel a little tied down," he explained. "There's only a few citrus fruits out there, and I don't wanna end up doing the same stuff over and over again. I'm going for sort of a break-out role: vegetables! What do you think, Chase? …Chase?"

Chase was not listening, instead banging his head against the nearest wall hoping The Stupid would go away.

_**Olive Green-**_

Chase doubted that he had ever before seen his consort so alluring.

Of course, there had been times he had thought as much in the past: Jack was a lovely young man and could doll himself up quite a bit when aiming to impress his overlord.

Initially, the sight of Jack dressed up in a sleek and expensive suit, one that highlighted his status as a wealthy and powerful youth had seemed to Chase the sexiest thing he had seen Jack wear.

Then, later had come the vision of Jack in a swimsuit, showing off his slim and slender torso and long legs, usually hidden in baggy black clothing. The suit had been quickly replaced by the swim trunks as a favorite look, and after them came the infinitely more pleasing view of a completely naked Jack.

Less proved more in that respect.

However, Jack's current look topped even complete nudity in Chase's mind, despite the fact that there was clearly very little effort put into the appearance.

Jack was obviously exhausted, having just woken up and dragged himself onto a couch in the den to watch television. He was curled up against the black leather looking terribly vulnerable and small in the olive green robe he had pulled on, clearly a size too big for him. Even as he yawned and brought the deep red mug of coffee to his lips, the light fixtures were playing tricks on his pale skin, making it glow with a faint sheen of gold.

Chase drew immense pleasure from the fact that his consort didn't even flinch when he was suddenly joined on the couch and held tightly. Instead, Jack merely yawned again and leaned into the embrace, perfectly docile; perfectly complacent.

"Mornin', Chase," he murmured to his everlord, nuzzling up against him.

Chase tightened his hold possessively and nuzzled back. "Good morning, consort _mine…_"

_**Orange-**_

Jack knew he was paired with a positively gorgeous specimen of man.

It was what, when asked to explain his malfunction, he attributed his frequent bouts of insecurity and jealousy to where his lord and master was concerned, for with that godlike body, beautiful face, and utterly charming personality, there was quite literally _no one_ Chase could not have.

Jack was firmly of the belief that Chase could coerce the most staunch and heterosexual of celibate priests into a roll in the hay, should the urge ever strike—and he was quite correct.

But there was one thing that quite reassured him whenever he began to get too paranoid regarding his lover's loyalty.

Chase was a terribly dangerous creature; not altogether human and often far more predator than man. He was a monster, easily ready to strike down his foes at the drop of a hat, but never moreso than when surrounded by his element.

In the presence of fire, whether he had created it or not, Chase was stronger and more vicious than away from it, empowered by the flame and made all the more dangerous. Near enough of it, and the dragonlord was a juggernaut: several times more aggressive and cruel than usual.

For scores of now-dead mortals, the sight of a smirking Chase Young bathed in a wicked orange glow had been their last.

Jack, however, found comfort in the exact opposite, on somewhat chilly evenings when a fire was going in the hearth and he and Chase were curled up together, perhaps in a blanket, before it.

Times such as those made him confident that Chase was utterly without urge to seek another's company in romance or in sexual matters.

Normally, even a small amount of flame in the dragonlord's presence was enough to make him hostile and belligerent, at the least a bit snappish and edgy, but when he was alone with Jack, it was a different story.

On those nights before the fireplace, Chase was gentle and affectionate; loving in a perfect counterpoint to the usual destructiveness. It cemented things for Jack just knowing that Chase could be that way for him when so many others had died by the flame.

Jack mused that it _was_ an honor: thousands, possibly millions of deceased knew how wickedly, lethally lovely Chase's smirking face was by the light of the fire.

Only he knew how much lovelier the sight was with a smile, and he was still alive to continue remembering it.

_**Orange Red-**_

"Do it."

"Here? In public?"

"Yes."

"How shameless, Spicer."

"Less talky, more strokey."

"Anyone could walk by and—"

"Stroke it!" Jack demanded.

"You're beautiful," Chase announced, laying an elbow on the table and propping his chin in one hand.

Jack frowned. "You can do better than that," he said.

Chase rolled his eyes. "Your skin is like living marble," he elaborated, tone bored, "and it glows so beautifully in the light of the full moon. I worship thy splendor, my little god of love."

Now, Jack made a face. "How the hell do you both ham it up and not even try?"

Chase smirked. "It's a gift."

"Well, be serious," Jack insisted. "My ego is damaged right now: I don't want you to tell me what I wanna hear by exaggerating and sounding like you're waiting for the bus."

"But you _do_ want me to tell you what you want to hear," Chase prompted.

Jack shrugged. "It'd be nice," he admitted, "but I'd like it if it happened to be the truth, too."

Chase sighed, taking a sip of coffee. "All this because a child who didn't know any better gawked at you?"

Jack only stared down at the table, poking at what was left of a mostly-eaten crêpe.

"You _are_ beautiful," Chase said. "I wasn't exaggerating when I said that."

Jack half-looked up. "Yeah…?"

Chase nodded. "I wouldn't allow someone I didn't find attractive in my bed, much less in so revered a position as my consort."

Jack met Chase's eyes, now.

"Your skin _is_ lovely, too," the warlord continued. "It's such a perfect contrast to your hair and eyes. It makes those already vibrant colors even moreso."

Jack gave a tentative smile and Chase decided he could very well stop there and Jack would not pester him any further.

He chose not to.

"I've seen albino eyes before," Chase instead went on. "I've seen blues and pinks and even pale reds, but such a bold blood-red, like yours…_that_ is unique."

The smile was no longer tentative, and still Chase did not stop.

"I like your hair quite a bit, as well," he confessed. "I've never met anyone mortal with hair precisely that shade, and those that had it attained it magically or with dye. On you, it's natural. The last I'd seen that particular shade of orange red anywhere in nature," he mused, "was at precise points in a sunset, _maybe_ in autumn leaves if caught at a very particular time. Either way, it is lovely."

Now that his consort's face was well on its way to being the same color as the hair he had been talking about, Chase decided he had just about done his job.

"Do you feel any better?" he wondered. "Or would you prefer I continue talking of your incredible genius; perhaps your flexibility and masterful prowess in the bedroom?"

Jack looked around, abruptly concerned that someone else at the sidewalk café might overhear now that he was actually in a bashful enough mood to _get_ embarrassed. "No, no," he denied his overlord, "it's fine. Ego stroked."

Chase smirked, even as he once more raised his cup of coffee to his lips. "Happy to oblige, Spicer."

_**Orange Yellow-**_

Chase Young hated most things and feared little.

It was as he thought this that he sat quietly in his study; his inner sanctum, doing little else besides breathing and thinking.

It seemed unfathomable, honestly.

He had faced thousands of opponents, millions of dire situations in his lifetime and he had not so much as flinched! Now, he was more shaken than he had any recollection of ever being and for something so _small._

A rockslide. One rockslide, and Chase's world had completely flipped for a brief period.

It had only taken a second, that one second of coming across that garish pair of cracked yellow orange-spiralled goggles and then finding that body half-buried amongst the rocks…

Chase shuddered even now just _remembering_ that horrifyingly limp dangle of Jack's arms, blood dripping from his fingers; the source who _knew_ where.

In that moment, Chase had hated nothing and feared everything.

However, equilibrium was beginning to reassert itself.

Jack was currently resting in their bed. He had sustained many injuries: crushed ribs, broken bones, and _plenty_ of bruising inside and out, but no vital organs had been permanently damaged and out of all the bones broken, his spine had not been included.

Heavily battered and concussed, Jack would need time to recover, but it was a recovery that would _happen._

As for Chase, he continued to sit, stone-still as he processed. Soon, things would be normal for him, again. Within the hour, the ability to hate would return and he would embrace it gladly, using it to fuel his plans for vengeance against the witch that had nearly broken his consort.

But for now, Chase would simply sit, coming to terms with the fact that the thought of a broken consort had momentarily paralyzed him with terror.

_**Orchid-**_

Certain to stay out of sight and out of range, Jack watched as the door to the palace swung open and Chase stepped out.

Truly, he was glorious, Jack affectionately mused. His handsome face set in a stern expression, holding himself with the utmost grace and power even as the wind gently played with that long and lovely mane of his…

Jack snapped back to reality as off in the distance, Chase frowned, confusion written on his face. Surely, he was wondering what was going on: there had most certainly been a knock, and yet, no one was there.

Jack made sure to pay careful attention, using the zoom function of his goggles/binoculars, to the dragonlord's face when he glanced down.

There was surprise, most prominently as Chase bent to pick up the bouquet that lie at his feet, several dozen fresh and lovely orchids.

Jack watched as Chase eyed the flowers, at first suspiciously and then with mere curiosity upon realizing that they were, indeed, only flowers and not some elaborate trap. Chase leaned in ever so slightly, breathing in the scent of the orchids, only to pause and frown.

Even as a small part of him mourned the frown, for Chase looked so much handsomer smiling (or at least smirking), Jack knew exactly what the warlord was frowning _at._

From the pale purple flowers, Chase pulled a single yellow one, finding a note attached to its stem.

Jack, having written it, knew what it said: _A little birdie told me you liked orchids. You probably already know that the purple ones mean love, and that yellow ones like this mean **hopeless** love. Let me know. – J.S._

Though he was continually telling himself to relax, Jack's heart rate still picked up as Chase grabbed and read the note, his expression indiscernible.

Here was the moment of truth: Jack had signed his recognizable initials, so Chase now knew that the bouquet had come from him. Considering Chase's intelligence, he likely also knew that Jack was somewhere nearby, watching.

Jack figured there were really only a few options in terms of what could happen. Chase could discard the flowers, perhaps burn them for effect, and then go back inside, scorning his admirer utterly. If he was particularly upset by the attempt at courtship, he might come in search of Jack before going back into his citadel, possibly to kill him, possibly to beat him up—whatever level of irritated fit Chase best at the moment.

But that was the worst case scenario. Hopefully…

Jack's attention perked as Chase moved, pulling the note from the yellow orchid's stem and placing it amidst the purple blossoms he held in his other arm. The yellow flower was only briefly considered, half-sneered at before Chase effortlessly flicked it away from him; off of his porch and a long way down the mountain.

With a brief glance around, Jack shivering as, for one quick second, his eyes landed directly on where the goth hid, Chase turned and retreated back into his palace with the orchids in tow.

Jack let out a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding as the door slammed loudly behind the dragonlord, a relieved chuckle ghosting past his lips.

Pulling his goggles up onto his forehead, Jack smiled and activated his helipack. He had to plan for the next step in courting Chase, after all.

_**Outer Space-**_

"I've never gone."

Jack tore his gaze away from the moon that looked particularly enchanting this night, fixing his gaze on his overlord. "Where?" he wondered.

"Space," Chase replied. He did not turn to look at his consort and there was something dreamy in his tone, as if he had just come out of a sound sleep. "I grew up under this sky. I've lived 1,500 years—more!—looking up at these same stars and constellations, and yet, I've never…"

Jack frowned as Chase trailed off. "You never hitched a ride on some NASA expedition?"

Chase shook his head. "Many of those expeditions last much longer than I would wish to go and I'm unable to teleport myself home from so great a distance," he said absently.

"What about space tourism?"

Again, Chase shook his head no. "It hasn't been available until recently," he pointed out. "That, and it's expensive."

Jack stared at Chase thoughtfully, slowly returning his gaze to the midnight sky. "Do you want to go?"

"Into space?"

Jack nodded silently.

"Yes," said Chase. "I do."

Jack was quiet, as if considering something. "I can make it happen," he said eventually. "I've built vehicles to travel through everything else: I can sure as hell make a spaceship. Then, we can go, just the two of us."

Chase turned, fixing his consort with an unreadable stare. Then, he wrapped an arm around Jack, holding him close. "You are too good to me, xin aí," he said warmly.

Jack merely smiled and leaned into the embrace. "I know."

_**Outrageous Orange-**_

"Thanks for the invite, mom," Jack said, smiling. "For a second, I thought you were tricking me into a fancy gala thing, but…this is nice."

Sylvia smiled right back, a bright and dazzling thing. "Oh, honey," she said, "I wouldn't do that to you unless it was your birthday—April Fool's day," she noted for Chase's benefit.

Chase snorted, only barely managing to swallow his mouthful of hot cocoa first. "Is it really?" he wondered of his consort.

Sheepishly, Jack shrugged. "I probably could've had a worse birthday," he admitted, "but I can't think of what it is, now."

"I knew Jackie was going to be evil from the day he was born," Sylvia boldly declared.

Jack stared at her. "Really, mom?"

Chase, too, was looking to his hostess for answers. "How did you figure that one?"

"Well, for one thing, he came early," said Mrs. Spicer. "It is _just_ like a baby mastermind to plan an unexpected escape right when Mommy's trying to board a train to get to the family doctor."

"Dude," said Jack, "I was a preemie?"

"I didn't tell you?" Sylvia wondered. "Oh…well, you were. Not by too much, but you weren't expected for another month and a quarter. Anyways, you caused quite a bit of chaos during _and_ after the birth, too."

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't intentional, mom," Jack replied.

"Oh, nonsense," Sylvia waved her son off, "you just can't remember that far back."

Jack shared a look with Chase, the latter proceeding to ask, "What happened then?"

"Jackie couldn't make up his mind," Mrs. Spicer explained to her guest. "He wanted out, and then he wouldn't _come_ out. Two days of labor and nothing!"

"Didn't you say my foot got tangled in the umbilical cord?" wondered Jack.

Sylvia nodded. "It did, but I'll just bet you tied it yourself to mess with poor old mom. Eventually, they decided to perform a C-section to get you out, and that's when the real trouble started."

"When he was born?" Chase prompted.

"When else?" Sylvia took a gingerbread cookie from the plate on the table, nudging it towards her son and his lover in case they wanted any, as well. "I can't say I remember it, but I had it taped, because I wanted to be able to see my Jackie the moment he came out—even if I didn't see it _at_ the moment. Well, anyway, out you came and the doctors were so solemn, saying you were stillborn."

Jack's eyes widened. "I was born dead?" he exclaimed.

Sylvia merely laughed. "Oh, no, sweetie," she chuckled at her son, "they only _thought_ you were stillborn. You weren't moving or crying and you were so _white;_ add in the fact that you were premature, and they thought the worst."

The middle-aged lady smiled, daintily biting the head off a poor hapless gingerbread man. "I only wish you could remember it: the way that doctor _screamed_ when you just started wailing…" She laughed again. "It was so funny, dear, you would've loved it."

Chase smirked, deciding to take a cookie, as well. "I can only imagine it got worse," he mused.

"Oh, my, yes," said Sylvia. "When the hospital finally let him out of the incubator and in with the rest of the babies, Jackie drew quite a crowd! More parents were looking at you than their own babies," she said to Jack, "and you wouldn't believe some of the comments I overheard."

"Wondering if I was dead?" guessed Jack.

Mrs. Spicer shook her head. "They wondered about that, too, of course," she acknowledged, "but most of the talk was about your eyes—and your hair, now that I think of it: you didn't have much, then, but there was a faint dusting of it. Enough to make people ask each other who had sprinkled paprika on that poor, zombie-vampire baby."

Chase laughed, washing the last of his cookie down with cocoa. "That's my Jack," he said proudly, "making people accuse him of supernaturality wherever he goes."

Sylvia giggled, too. "That was when I knew Jack would be evil," she said in confidence. "He already had the look down perfect, and he was set up for ridicule with that outrageously orange hair, those red eyes, that pale skin… Children are cruel and I wanted him to get the best out of life despite them: what better path to get that than to be evil?"

Jack gaped at his mother. "Wait, wait, wait," he said. "Are you telling me you encouraged me to be evil…on purpose?"

Large blue doe-eyes blinked back at him. "Of course," Sylvia said innocently. "I knew that, looking the way you do, you weren't exactly about to blend in with society. If you weren't going to have a normal life, I wanted you to have an extravagant life."

"Evil is quite a good pathway for that," Chase nodded in agreement.

"And then, you got older," Sylvia continued, "and you turned out to be a genius, too… You fit the mold too perfectly, honey, and you had the inclination. You took to evil like a duck to water!"

"Not quite," Chase corrected. "He took to the _aspiration_ of being evil like a duck to water. He took to _being_ evil like a duck to quicksand."

"But you helped him with that, didn't you, Chase?" Sylvia smirked behind her own mug of cocoa. "When Jackie told me he had a crush on you, I was thrilled, but he wasn't ready. He was still too unrefined to catch the attention of a lord like you. So…I helped him."

Chase quite suddenly found his consort's mother's words less amusing. "What?"

"Oh, yes," continued sweet Mrs. Spicer, "I knew you two would work out wonderfully, but Jack…" she smiled at her son, "you weren't _quite_ ready to have Chase. I got you to start dressing a little nicer, I paid for those martial arts classes you took, and when you asked me to find you a behavioral coach so you could learn to act a bit more mature, I hardly protested. Then, I just let the wheels turn, so to speak, and here you both are: together as master and consort."

Jack continued to stare wide-eyed at his mother. "Holy crap," he said, somewhat awed. "You turned me evil _and_ you got us together, too?"

"Of course," Sylvia said. "You seem quite happy for it, too, so I'm glad I did."

Chase was staring as well, though in a way a bit more dignified than his consort. "Good gods," he muttered, somewhat stunned at the realization that this rich, sunny-tempered housewife was, in actuality, a manipulatively brilliant lady.

"Mom," declared Jack, "you are a _mastermind._"

Sylvia smirked again. "Jackie," she said, her tone just a bit condescending, "where do you suppose _your_ genius came from?"

_**Pacific Blue-**_

Chase hated this feeling; the detached coldness that so completely surrounded him. Never mind the fact that the area was heated and quite cozy, he was uneasy because he was separated from air (and life in general) by seven miles of water while the only thing that was separating him from some 15,000 psi of pressure (and subsequent death) was a bit of metal.

He would not say he was scared, for he wasn't, but he couldn't seem to stray more than a few inches from Jack's side.

Piloting the submarine, Jack was perfectly calm in counterpoint to his edgy everlord. He sat perfectly straight, his hands gripping the controls firmly and with a confidence that Chase couldn't help but envy a bit right now.

"_How_ are you so relaxed?" he demanded of his consort.

Jack glanced over his shoulder. "I've done this hundreds of times," he said. "Why would I be freaked out?"

"Hundreds of times?" Chase scoffed. "You've really been so deep underwater _hundreds_ of times?"

"Alright, not hundreds," Jack allowed, "and not quite _this_ deep, but I built this sub with my own two hands and it's not the first time I've used it. There's no need to be so frizzy."

Chase sneered. "Frizzy? I don't _do_ frizzy."

Jack merely chuckled. "Ohhhh, yes, you do," he assured. "If you were a cat, your fur would be fluffed out right now."

Chase folded his arms over his chest and took a step away from Jack, forcing down the instinctive urge to move right back.

"Oh, don't do that," said Jack, returning his eyes to the deep sea laid out before them. "This is a leisure cruise, Chase: try to enjoy it."

Only mildly appeased, the warlord once more stepped closer to his consort. "How can I enjoy it?" he wondered. "We're liable to die any second."

"I get that you're freaked out about all the water," Jack allowed, "but really, it's cool. This hull is airtight and it can take as much as _20,_000 psi. We're safe, I promise."

Chase only hissed in response.

Jack gave a sideways glance to the windows on the side of the sub. "Why don't you take a look outside?" he invited. "Deep sea is famous for its weird-looking critters. More than a thousand years of living, and there's stuff _you_ haven't seen before. You can't tell me you don't wanna look."

Chase frowned, recognizing the goad for what it really meant: 'go distract yourself and stop distracting the pilot.' Boldly, a bit more than he actually felt, he walked the short distance to one of the windows and looked out.

Almost immediately, he saw something that made him gag audibly.

"What is it?" Jack wondered.

"It's disgusting," Chase declared. "There's a fish with a transparent head."

Jack smiled. "That should be a barreleye," he said. "Are there two green ball-looking things on its brain?"

Chase grimaced. "Yes."

"Those are its eyes," informed Jack. "They look up through the transparent head to find other fish to eat."

"That's perfectly nauseating," said Chase.

"What else do you see out there?"

Chase continued to look into the blackness of the deep sea, lit by the lights on the submarine.

"There's nothing," he started to say, only to cut off with a sharp inhalation of breath.

"What?" Jack said, half-turning his head to where Chase stood behind him. "What happened?"

Reinstating his composure in only a short moment, Chase scowled. "It's nothing," he said again. "It's just a jellyfish. I wasn't expecting it to pop out of nowhere."

"How big is it?" Jack asked, sounding more than a little curious.

"Fairly large," said Chase, eyeing the thing critically. "Perhaps…nine or ten feet across."

"Is it red?"

"Yes, it i—…shouldn't you be piloting the sub, Spicer?"

Jack, now beside his overlord, shook his head. "It's on autopilot," he said. "I wanted to see."

"The jellyfish?" Chase wondered.

"It's a granrojo jellyfish," Jack said, watching the strange thing float about in the depths with obvious excitement. "Only, like, twenty of these things have been found and nobody knows anything about 'em."

"Granrojo," Chase echoed. "Big red?"

Jack shrugged as the jellyfish began to swim out of view. "Nobody ever said it was a creative name."

Chase resisted the urge to flinch away again as something awkwardly crawled into view, sucking itself directly onto the window. "What in gods' name is _that?_" he demanded to know.

Jack was gaping. "Dude," he said, "that thing is so _rare!_"

Chase eyed it, though it most certainly disgusted him. It looked a bit like a squid, but squids had beaks in the middle. This…thing appeared to have teeth; _human_ teeth. "What is it?" he asked again.

"It's a squid," Jack confirmed for him. "I think the exact genus is Promachoteuthis Sulcus…scientists have only found, like, a single specimen of it. I mean, not many expeditions have been done in the Mariana Trench, but _still._"

The squid, apparently bored or having realized that the submarine was not edible, detached itself and began swimming away. Chase watched it go, pleased not to have to look at it anymore. "Why does it have teeth?"

"It doesn't," said Jack. "It's got a beak like normal squids do, but that particular species have a sort of lip thing that covers it. The lip just happens to look creepily like teeth."

"I'll say." Chase continued looking out the window, Jack at his side, when something else hideous floated into view. "That is an…anglerfish, yes?"

Jack nodded, noting the gaping underbite of jagged teeth and the fluorescent light hanging from the forehead. Noticing a lump on its side, as well, Jack pointed. "See that?"

Chase narrowed his eyes. "The parasite?" he wondered.

"That's the male anglerfish," Jack informed. "At least, what's left of him."

Chase frowned at the fish before turning to look at Jack. "What happened to it?" he asked.

Jack shrugged. "It's how anglerfish mate," he said. "Females are big, like that one, and the males are teeny. When they reach sexual maturity, the males' digestive system starts to shut down, so they have to find a female to attach themselves to. They bite her, slowly grow attached to her, and then turn into a living tumor of gonads that the female can use to knock herself up whenever she wants."

Chase could not hold back the noise of disgust and when the anglerfish swam out of sight, he was again quite glad. "How do you _know_ all these nauseating little tidbits, Spicer?" he demanded.

"I watch The Most Extreme and read Cracked," said Jack. "I made sure to bone up on my deep sea stuff for you before we came down here, though."

Chase blinked. "For me?"

Jack turned to look at him. "I kinda figured you'd be a little freaked out down here," he admitted. "Your element is fire and with all this _water_ everywhere, well… Anyways, I wanted to be sure I had enough trivia to distract you with and it worked."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Jack smirked. "You're not frizzy anymore, are you?"

Abruptly, Chase realized that he was not. The deep sea sight-seeing and talking with Jack about the strange inhabitants of the watery depths had quite soundly taken his mind off of his uneasiness. Even now that he was no longer distracted, he hardly felt edgy anymore.

"Jack," he said, a smile beginning to come across his face, "thank you. I appreci—what in the name of hell are _those?_"

Jack looked and saw two pairs of large, empty eyes at the window, mouths open in silent screams. "Oh, fuck, hatchetfish!" he yelped, scrambling back to the controls and piloting the submarine elsewhere. "They're after our souls!"

_**Peach-**_

"…what d'you mean?"

"You heard me, Jack," Chase said calmly. "I don't want any."

Jack glanced at the peach he held in his hand, soon returning his baffled gaze to his everlord. "You usually jump on opportunities like this," he said, clearly confused.

Chase quirked an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Well, sharing food, for one," Jack noted. "You usually like anything that gets our mouths close to each other."

"As a rule, yes," Chase admitted.

"And then, the symbolism thing," Jack continued. "You love doing symbolic stuff with me, like when we went for a walk in a grove of trees last fall 'cause maple leaves are an emblem of lovers, and then just last week when you gave me a red rose 'cause they mean immortal love and passion and I gave you a pink one 'cause it means _first_ love."

Chase nodded casually. "Yes, that happened," he said calmly.

"So, why not the peach?" Jack demanded.

"_Why_ the peach?" Chase countered.

"Oh, come on," said Jack, "you're Chinese: you know the myth."

"About peaches?"

"Yes!" Jack exclaimed. "Don't make me say it, I'm seriously getting agitated, here."

"Of course I know it," Chase assured. "Peaches are eaten by the Eight Immortals to provide eternal longevity, given at the appropriately named Feast of Peaches by the Jade Warlord and his mother."

"Thank you," said Jack. "So, you see the parallel here."

"That I'm a warlord and the both of us are immortal?"

Jack nodded. "Exactly that, so…why no peach-nomming?"

"I'm allergic," Chase declared.

"…you're allergic…?"

"You've not gone deaf, Spicer," Chase said. "That's what I just told you."

There were precisely ten seconds of silence.

Then, came the boisterous laughter that made Chase sigh and roll his eyes, storming off into another room even as Jack called after him.

"Wait, don't go," he said, still practically crying for hilarity. "Yuh-you gotta admit that the irony is _palpable,_ Chase!"

Chase ignored him and went elsewhere.

_**Periwinkle-**_

Chase, Jack, and the monks all simultaneously froze as an evil laugh rent the air, even worse than Jack's famously terrible first attempts.

At the top of the ridge overlooking the valley they inhabited stood a man, looking to be in his late forties or early fifties and decked out in an unpleasantly form-fitting costume; like one might see in a comic book.

"Fools," he exclaimed loudly, "_none_ of you shall win the Shin Gong Wu, for it will be mine!"

"_Shen_ Gong Wu," corrected Kimiko.

"And who the hell are you?" asked Rai.

The man struck an exaggerated pose, raising a metal clad arm in a dramatic gesture. "I am the Technomancer," he announced, "and I—"

"Oh…_wait,_" groaned Jack, raising a hand to his face. "I _know_ this guy…"

Chase looked at him. "You truly know this clown, Spicer?" he wondered.

Jack sighed. "Yeah, he's—"

"Silence, you bilge rat!" the Technomancer exclaimed. "You have no right to reveal my secret identity!"

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, warding off a headache before scowling up at the man. "You're not a supervillain, Dr. Kurokawa," he snapped, "you're an idiot. This is _not_ a superhero/villain type deal, it never has been, and you look stupid acting like it is. _Nobody_ here is wearing a costume, and even if this conflict _was_ the costume deal, you can't even keep your costume and your dialogue in sync. You fail."

Chase gave his consort a nudge. "Explain, Jack," he demanded. "Who is this man?"

"He's an asshole," said Jack. "I had to work with him on a project, like, a year back and he was getting all uppity with me, saying I was too green to know what I was talking about."

"A mistake," Chase deduced, knowing Jack's intelligence in his field.

Jack nodded. "I told him off 'cause he was a dick and finished the thing without him. I think I got some kind of award for perfecting clean energy…"

"Some kind of award?" the costumed Kurokawa gaped at Jack. "It was the Nobel Peace Prize, you little ingrate, and it should've been _mine!_ You stole it from me, and now I'm going to steal that," he pointed to the Wu down in the valley, "from you!"

"Dude, you know nothing about anything," Rai sneered at the doctor. "There's, like, a million of these things: we fight over them all the time and I'm pretty sure Spicer's not gonna cry over losing _one._"

"Never have before," said Jack.

"I don't think this guy did his research before barging into the Conflict," Kimiko said in a stage whisper.

Up on the ridge, the Technomancer was getting red in the face, scowling as he opened his mouth to reply.

He was not given the chance.

"Look, guy," Jack said calmly, "get out of here. Leave the Showdowns to us professionals, and if I may give you a piece of advice…? What I said to you the last time was true: there's this crazy thing called 'the passage of time,' and it _happened_ to you. Your ideas are outdated, you're too stubborn to step up your game, and I was nice enough to just _leave_ you in the dust as opposed to turning you _into_ it."

Again, Dr. Kurokawa made to say something, and again, Jack cut him off.

"And seriously, what is _with_ that costume?" he criticized. "It's friggin' periwinkle, possibly the gayest color of gay in existence—besides an outright rainbow. Nobody else is doing the costume thing, and you need to get the fuck up out of here, 'cause you're making all of us feel awkward with your spandex, periwinkle package sticking out at us."

Both Chase and the monks laughed at this, even as Jack snapped his fingers in command, a Jackbot responding immediately and dragging the Technomancer off somewhere far, far away.

As soon as the laughter died down, Jack spoke up again. "Look, guys," he said, "I'm sorry about him. I never really thought I'd have to see his face again, much less force _you_ guys to."

"Ahhh, it's cool," Kimiko shrugged. "Everybody's got some dirty laundry."

Chase smirked and laid a hand on Jack's shoulder, bringing his lips to his consort's ear. "You handled your 'dirty laundry' quite masterfully, Jack," he purred. "After you win, I should like to have you in as many ways as you can possibly accommodate me."

Jack perked noticeably, even as Omi spoke up from the other side of the battlefield.

"Enough talk of laundry," he exclaimed, "it is time to battle!"

Eagerly, Jack grinned and placed a hand on the Shen Gong Wu just as Omi did. "I couldn't agree more," he said.

"Gong Yi Tanpai!"

_**Piggy Pink-**_

If Chase knew he was blushing, he didn't care: he was far too busy being embarrassed.

"Ohhh, who's a wittle piggy?" Jack was cooing at the enclosure. "Who's a wittle, ickle, baby piggy-wiggy? Issit you? Issit you? Yes, it is! _You's_ a wittle, ickle, cutie-wootie, baby-waby piggy-wiggy!"

The piglets seemed delighted by the baby-talk and had eagerly zoomed up to the fence to receive praise from the petting zoo visitor.

Chase, however, was very much humiliated, largely thanks to the fact that Jack was holding his hand as he said such silly things to the piglets, marking them publicly as a couple as he continued to draw stares.

Chase's pink blush burned brighter and Jack continued to simper at the fuzzy little pigs.

_**Pine Green-**_

Chase took a deep breath, inhaling the cool, pine-scented air. How long had it been since he'd last visited a forest like this? How long since he had breathed such crisp air? How long since he had _relaxed_ so utterly?

He could not recall.

However, he found it didn't really matter to him as Jack came out on the deck of the cabin, wrapping his arms around the warlord from behind.

"Wanna go in the hot tub later tonight?"

Chase glanced over at the jacuzzi and imagined lounging in the hot, bubbly water with his beloved, sharing equally bubbly champagne under the stars.

"I would love to," he said, leaning on the rail of the deck and enjoying Jack's warm embrace. "This vacation idea of yours was genius, Jack. I'm glad you convinced me."

Jack chuckled and nuzzled the back of his master's neck. "I didn't get my super genius badge for nothing, y'know…"

_**Pink Flamingo-**_

"Spicer, I thought I told you to get _rid_ of these damn things, not add _more_!"

"Your porch needs more color," Jack declared, "and gnomes are too creepy."

Chase snarled. "Remove the flamingos!"

"Never!" Jack exclaimed, then proceeding to flee.

"Grrragh!" Chase growled, in hot pursuit of his irritating consort.

_**Pink Sherbet-**_

Chase's hand was very sticky. Cold and sticky. Cold and sticky and drippy. Cold and stick and drippy and thoroughly unpleasant, but Chase had no attention to pay to that.

Across from him, Jack was enjoying a cone of pink sherbet; strawberry, Chase thought he remembered the youth ordering, but details were hardly important.

What _was_ important was the manner in which Jack was eating his frozen treat: taking tiny, delicate licks at the stuff with his tongue slipping past his lips, curling into the frozen treat, and retreating into his mouth— all with those tiny, delicate, _maddeningly_ coquettish licks.

Chase knew he was staring and frankly, didn't care. Aside from Jack, the only thing that had his attention was his unfortunate genitals, which he swore blind he could hear screaming for help within his trousers.

Jack, of course, knew exactly the effect he was having on his everlord, for his lips were turned upwards in a deliciously evil smirk that only served to make Chase _harder,_ continuing to enjoy the sweet, creamy confection.

Abruptly, Chase became aware of the fact that the other patrons of the small shop were staring at the two of them; the rapidly melting cone in Chase's hand and the seductive manner with which Jack was enjoying his. He could feel from them a mix of amusement, disgust, and lust, and he was pleased with none of these reactions; _particularly_ not lust.

Whirling about, he snarled at them. "Mine!"

Immediately, the others looked away, none of them wishing to tangle with Chase—wisely, of course.

Finding them sufficiently cowed, Chase returned his gaze to his consort. "Lick _more,_" he ordered.

Jack bent over the cone ever so slightly, enough so that he could look up at Chase through the lashes of his eyes as he dragged his tongue over the pink sherbet in a torturously slow swirl before closing his mouth over it and sucking.

There was a barely audible, muffled grunt from Chase. After a moment of breathing, he imperiously declared, "Alright. We're going home."

Jack pulled away from his sherbet. "What?" he said, his tone crestfallen. "But I wasn't finished yet! I had a _lot_ more sexy things to do to that cone!"

"We're going home," Chase said. "I need a change of pants."

Jack said nothing, but a wide smirk slowly spread across his face.

Chase took little notice of it as he pulled Jack from his seat and escorted him outside, not caring that both his underwear and hand were sticky or that Jack had dropped his cone back in the ice cream shop.

"The change of pants shall be accomplished _much_ later," he said, proceeding to teleport both he and his consort home and directly into their bed.

_**Plum-**_

Jack eyed his reflection in the mirror, smoothing a few strands of hair back and out of his face. His eyeliner had been applied, though without his trademark hook, as Chase had told him it made his eyes pop wonderfully, but that the hook was extraneous.

Besides that, at a nice dinner party like this, an eyeliner hook could quite literally hang him; at least in terms of social relations. With his hair and eyes and skin, the rest of his appearance had damn well better be conservative.

As such, he wore a perfectly standard black suit and tie. The suit jacket was unbuttoned, as the party was to be _somewhat_ casual, but the shirt beneath it was the typical white and both his pants and shoes were generic and black.

Nothing particularly special, but Jack had been assured he looked nice anyway.

"Chase, are you almost ready?" Jack called from the bathroom. "I know we can just teleport there, but it's always best to be early to these things."

"I'm ready," he heard Chase reply, voice getting closer as he went on. "I doubt you'll be turned into a pariah if we're a few minutes late, though."

Jack shook his head, continuing to inspect himself. "Nah," he said, "but high society people are sharks. Every mistake I make is gonna be held against me, and I've already got a few strikes not in my favor."

"Such as?" Chase wondered from just outside the door.

"Number One: I'm coming with another man," Jack began to list. "Number Two: my looks are not the standard. Number Three: I'm what is essentially a noob on the business scene. I'm from Old Money and that helps, but I'm striking out on my own in a field that isn't my parents', so I've have to be super-extra-careful around these people so as not to fuck up any potential investments and…holy _crap,_ you're hot."

Chase, having opened the door and stepped inside the bathroom sometime in the middle of Jack's rant, glanced down at himself. His outfit was certainly nothing spectacular: merely a rather form-fitting black suit, like Jack's own. Really, the only difference was that the vest beneath his suit jacket was a deep, rich plum color and that instead of slicking his hair back (as would look silly with such a long and lovely mane of hair), he had tied it back with a dark purple band.

Nonetheless, he smiled. "I'm _always_ hot, Spicer," he assured.

Jack continued to stare at his overlord. "Yeah," he happily agreed, "but like this…_damn,_ that purple looks nice on you! It, like, brings out your eyes and it looks _really_ nice with your hair…_Damn._"

Chase laughed. "Thank you, xin aí," he purred. "I am always happy to hear you compliment me."

"Well, it's not just flattery," Jack said. "Looking like that, I bet half the people there won't even mind that you're a dude and they'll all be talking about how fucking gorgeous my partner is."

Chase held out his arm, smirking. "Partner in crime, Jack?"

Jack took it. "Partner in whatever the hell you wanna do you with me," he answered.

Again, Chase laughed and teleported the both of them to the party.

_**Purple Heart-**_

"Did I ever tell you about this ring, Chase?"

Chase looked over at his consort, finding him to be inspecting a bit of jewelry. It appeared to be a ring, obviously, a platinum band inlaid with a dark, nearly-black purple wood. Jack held the ring on a chain, so it was likely he had worn it around his neck more than on his finger.

"No," he said. "You've never mentioned it."

"Really?" Jack shrugged, continuing to inspect the ring. "I wear it all the time…I can't believe I never told you, _or_ that you never asked."

"Tell me now," Chase invited.

"My granny gave it to me," Jack said. "I was…jeez, five? Six? Something like that. It's got purpleheart wood in it, and it gets darker the older it is. It was bright purple when I got it, but now…"

"You said yourself it darkens with age," Chase pointed out. "Why does the darkness of it bother you now?"

Jack made a face. "It's…it'll sound stupid."

"Say it anyway."

"Granny told me that when it finally turns black, she'll die." Jack frowned at the ring. "It's almost black. I know she wasn't being serious, but—"

He was cut off as Chase came closer, taking the ring from his hand and inspecting it. After a moment, he assured, "She was quite serious."

Jack blinked. "How d'you—"

"This ring is enchanted," Chase said, handing it back. "It has black magic all _over_ it. What your grandmother said was true: the wood will turn black when she dies."

Jack looked at the ring, wide-eyed. "Damn," he said. "I knew Granny was into some heavy shit…Illuminati, probably a couple underground villain leagues…but black magic, too?"

Chase merely shrugged. "Such things are not unheard of," he said noncommittally.

Jack said nothing for awhile, frowning as he fastened the ring's chain around his neck once more. "If she really _is_ gonna die soon," he said, "I want to see her."

"Where does she live?"

"All over the place," Jack admitted. "She likes her penthouse in Bruges best, but sometimes, she heads back to the house she was born in, and that one's in California. Then, there's that nice place in France…I'll have to call ahead and figure out which place she's staying at right now."

"You do that," said Chase. "I'll go with you to see her when you do. If she's anything like your mother, I'm sure we'll get along just fine."

And with that, the overlord left the room, leaving Jack to smile after him.

_**Purple Mountain's Majesty-**_

"America the Beautiful is a stupid song," Jack announced randomly.

Chase merely stared at him. "Aren't you American?" he wondered.

"Mostly," admitted the goth. "I've got a little bit of everything, actually, but both my parents were born in America. I was born here in China, though."

"Even so, why are you bashing your own roots?"

Jack shook his head. "I'm not," he said confidently. "I just hate that song."

"Why?" Chase asked.

"Show me a purple mountain," Jack said. "Show me _one,_ actually purple mountain and even if you can, prove to me that it's majestic and not ridiculous-looking."

Chase snorted. "Fair enough," he shrugged.

_**Purple Pizzazz-**_

Jack scrolled down, looking for something to catch his eye. "Ooh," he shuddered as something did, "the Butt Mole."

Chase laughed from the bed. "Oh, gods," he entreated, "read the description."

"'Over fifteen inches in length and four inches wide,'" Jack read, "'the Butt Mole is the perfect plug if you're looking for a really fulfilling stretch. It—'"

"Stop there," Chase ordered, snickering. "Anymore, and I'm sure it'll border on horrifying."

Giggling, Jack did so, returning to the list. "Oh, yes, Chase," he said almost immediately, "let's get the Drippy Dragon!"

"…do I want to know?"

"It's in the shape of a lizard-penis," said Jack, "and it apparently shoots lube to simulate the real experience."

Chase gagged.

"Oh, no, that's not the best part," Jack assured. "'Includes free 8oz / 250ml bottle of Bad Dragon cum-lube.'"

Chase's gag turned into a far more nauseated sound. "Something else, Spicer, find something else!"

Jack laughed at his thoroughly squicked overlord and scrolled down again, looking for something actually interesting instead of creepy. "Purple Pizzazz?" he wondered.

Chase frowned. "Read it," he instructed.

"'The Purple Pizzazz is a beautiful seven inch dildo and has a pearly purple core that's wrapped with a supple, soft crystal coating for a gentle but amazingly firm penetration. With a realistically shaped head and balls this dildo is destined to be one of your sex toy favorites.'"

Chase quirked an eyebrow, considering it. "It _is_ about my size," he allowed. "And it's not like we need anything complicated."

"This thing's the definition of simple," said Jack. "Basic dildo, suction cup on the end in case we wanna stick it to something…" He smirked at Chase. "This'll keep me plenty busy while I'm getting busy on you," he winked.

"Purchase it," Chase said, "and feel free to browse some bondage gear while you're on that site: I _do_ so love you in leather, Jack."

Jack laughed. "Can do, babe!"

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

**A/N: THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS. Here is a status-update on this project, listing each segment by its Collection name (all of which can be found on good ol' Wiki, if you're interested):**

**STANDARD - Begun, not finished.**

**SILVER SWIRLS - To be written.**

**MAGIC SCENT - To be written.**

**GEM TONES - Excluded: nearly all colors touched on in Gems of Chack.**

**CHANGEABLES - Excluded: too specific.**

**COLOR MIX-UP - To be written.**

**PEARL BRITE - Excluded: too difficult to write for colors that all include the word 'pearl.'**

**CRAYONS WITH GLITTER - Excluded: too specific.**

**METALLIC FX - To be written.**

**SILLY SCENTS - To be written.**

**HEADS '****N TAILS - To be written.**

**TRUE TO LIFE - To be written.**

**EXTREME TWISTABLES - To be written.**

**I think I'm doing pretty good here: two more posts after this, and we'll be out of the Standard Collection. :D**

**Anyway, I just have a brief disclaimer to make regarding the last one: the Drippy Dragon is a totally real thing (read Cracked) and the description for the Purple Pizzazz is taken from one called the Purple Pearl.**

**As for the rest of it, thanks for reading, and I hope you liked the installment! XD**


	5. S: R to S

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Radical Red-**_

"…_butt paste?_"

"Yeah," said Jack, "it's supposedly good for…for diaper rash."

Jack was currently bent over the bed, pants and underwear around his ankles. His face was a bright, borderline-fluorescent red, which matched perfectly with his rear end.

Chase _sighed._

"Come on," snapped an already humiliated Jack, "this is uncomfortable!" He whimpered. "Help me, you jerk…"

Chase continued looking from the tube of ointment in his hand to the rash on his consort's bottom. He pouted. "I'd much rather have my fingers rubbing lotion _in_ your rear," he muttered, "not paste _on_ it."

"I'll make it up to you with my tongue later," promised Jack. "The ass is currently out of commission thanks to the damn monks."

At the reminder, Chase snapped his fingers, calling his most trusted warrior to him and giving him human form.

"Diol," the warlord spoke authoritatively, handing the dark-skinned man the ointment, "tend to my consort's red and itchy behind. I hope you shall behave yourself."

The now-human jaguar took it and nodded solemnly. "Of course, master," he said. "I would never take the undue liberty of tapping an ass you were currently tapping; not even sloppy seconds."

"Your respect is pleasing," Chase declared. "I knew I could trust you."

Jack, still bent over the bed, his bare ass in plain view, awkwardly turned to look at the two of them. "Wait," he said to his lover, "why aren't _you_ gonna do this?"

In the space of a second, Chase's armor had been magicked onto him and he wore a perfectly no-nonsense expression. "I have to go see the monks," he said coolly. "They have a 3:00 appointment for a bit of maiming, followed by regretting having ever used that damnable Ants in the Pants on my _consort._"

With that, he teleported away, leaving Jack and Diol alone in the bedroom.

Jack smiled lightly. "God, he's sweet," he announced dreamily. "Still, time and itches wait for no man. You heard our master, Diol: make with the butt paste!" For emphasis, he wiggled his hindquarters at the jaguar, indicating he make haste with the paste.

Unscrewing the cap of the ointment and squeezing a dollop onto his hand, Diol _sighed._

_**Raw Umber-**_

Jack shook his head as he inspecting the primitive cave paintings; people and animals done up in earthy sienna and umber and ochre.

"How the hell did we live without technology?" he asked himself.

Chase overheard him and answered. "Humans have always survived with technology," he said. "It is only the _level_ of technology that has changed. Cavemen like the ones who painted these," he gestured to the clay earth pigments upon the wall, "simply started out at the bottom. Mankind has since worked its way up; _quite_ a ways up, actually."

Jack looked at his master. "We'd totally die if we, like, went back in time and tried to live there, wouldn't we?"

"Most certainly so," Chase nodded. "I might manage: I have lived through many centuries and experienced the evolution of technology firsthand, but I would most certainly miss the luxuries. You, on the other hand, would die."

"Why me and not you?" Jack wondered.

"You were born in this era of air conditioning and high standards of health and medicine," Chase pointed out. "Your body isn't used to withstanding high temperatures for very long; your digestive system can't handle very much bacteria in your food; you've not been immunized for or lived through once-common illnesses that have long since died out. One way or another, Spicer, you would die in the past."

Idly, Jack's gaze returned to the cave paintings. "Is there any era you've ever wanted to go back to?" he asked eventually. "Just…to relive it?"

Chase nodded. "Several, actually. I rather liked the Qing Dynasty; I could do to live through it again."

"Then, why don't you?"

"Because," said Chase, "that era has passed. I don't _need_ to live it again."

"But wouldn't it be fun?" Jack wondered.

Chase turned and left the cave, trusting his consort to follow. "Hardly," he said as he walked. "What would be the point in going back to a time I'd liked if I couldn't share the experience with you?"

After a moment of blank staring, Jack shook his head and ran to catch up with his lover, a broad grin on his face.

_**Razzle Dazzle Rose-**_

Chase frowned calmly at his visitor, saying nothing and simply allowing him to speak.

"…know I've always been kind of an annoyance," Jack Spicer was saying to him and it was possibly the only reason he'd been allowed to plead his case: he had said, specifically, that he was here to make amends, not to beg for something or just be irritating. "I wanted to make it up to you and show you that I can be useful to you, after all."

Chase scowled at that. "So, this _is_ another ploy to become my apprentice or some other such nonsense?" he demanded.

"No," said Jack immediately, making _all_ the right moves to avoid truly sparking the overlord's temper: lowered head, slouched shoulders, passive tone, and every little bit of him saying to Chase, 'I am no threat, I respect you.'

The scowl eased away. "Very well, Spicer," he allowed after a moment. "You may attempt to prove yourself."

Silently, Jack reached into his coat and removed something, holding it out for Chase.

Chase, for his part, could not quite tell what it was. His sight was, of course, superb, but whatever it was Jack held did not make sense. There was a sparkle and glitter, as if it was some sort of gem, but Jack held it by a stem, like it were a plant. But even then, the 'stem' was purple, and that was not the standard color for stems of flowers.

"What is it?" he ordered of Spicer.

Jack merely held it out further, giving a vague, "It's for you," in explanation.

Chase narrowed his eyes. Could this be some kind of trap? The way Jack was acting was certainly…strange; not normal in comparison to his prior behavior.

Then again…this was _Jack._ Any sort of plan or trap of his would surely be useless against one such as Chase.

Slowly, the warlord stood from his throne, teleporting himself just before the youth in order to take the gift he was being offered. It quite escaped his notice that Jack did not flinch as he reappeared much closer, like he had been expecting the move.

Curiously, Chase took the object from Jack's hand and looked it over, finding it to be a strange thing, indeed. It _was_ a flower, or had been at one point, but was now hardly recognizable as such. Rosy pink petals had been bedazzled, every available surface covered with gems of varying colors, shapes, and sizes. The stem had, indeed, been painted purple, and now that he looked closer, also striped with black lines; sometimes horizontal, sometimes vertical, and sometimes diagonal.

Confused by the gift, Chase looked up, opening his mouth to ask about it when he abruptly realized that Jack was no longer standing before him.

He was kneeling and had somehow found the time to untie his sash and pull down his trousers.

"Spicer," he snapped, going to take a step back, "what in gods' name are you—!"

"Shut up, Chase," Jack said firmly, leaning forward. "I'm proving myself to you."

With no further ado, Jack's head dipped down and began to do something Chase found _very_ interesting with his mouth.

Later, many _hours_ later, in fact, Jack would explain that he had come across the concept of razzle dazzle camouflage, used on ships in the first World War. The technique, as he described it, worked not by hiding the ships, but by making them noticeable with complex and confusing patterns that would distract the enemy and make them unsure as to what they were dealing with, which would allow British naval ships time to go on the offensive: the concept was just the same with his rose.

In the present time, however, Chase looked down at a surprisingly talented Jack and allowed him to plead his case this way.

_**Razzmatazz-**_

Chase eyed his consort from across the room, an expression of disapproval on his face. "At this rate," he announced, "all of your teeth are going to rot out of your skull."

Jack waved him off, finishing with a lollypop and popping a piece of strawberry-flavored gum in his mouth. "I brush daily," he said as he chewed. "_Twice._"

Chase sneered at the large pile of sweets. "I'm not certain even the _strongest_ of toothpaste can ward off the cavities from _that._ Won't you at least get a stomachache from eating so much candy?"

Jack chuckled at the very idea and continued to sort through his pile for what to eat once the gum had lost its flavor. Finding a razzmatazz sour belt to his liking, he patted his abdomen proudly. "Cast-iron stomach," he declared. "I don't puke easy."

At this, Chase only made a noise of vague displeasure: Jack had come to learn that this noise meant the everlord had run out of points to argue, but was still not happy.

"Hey," he said, "I'm doing this for you! Be a little grateful, huh?"

Chase raised an eyebrow. "For me?"

"Imagine how I'd taste if I _didn't_ eat all this candy."

Chase considered it; thinking on the sorts of things Jack ate otherwise. Sour cream and onion potato chips, banana-flavored pudding, pork rinds, nachos, and several other species of junk food…

Imagining the taste of these congealed together in his consort's mouth, even as a secondhand flavor caused Chase to give a shudder of disgust. Now that he thought of it, he _did_ rather enjoy the lingering sweetness of sugar in Jack's mouth and on his lips; even moreso now that he thought of the pure awfulness that it was replacing.

Jack, having seen the briefly disgusted expression on his master's face, smirked even as he spat out and threw away his gum, biting into the sour belt. "You're welcome," he said quite haughtily.

With one last tremble of nausea, Chase relented. "_Thank_ you."

_**Red-**_

Jack stared in abject horror at the grisly sight before him, quite literally quaking in his boots and praying for his own safety.

He had every reason to be frightened: a murder had just been committed before his very eyes.

Chase hardly seemed affected, despite the fact that he had just killed a man. Blood spread outwards on the floor and dripped from his hands, and yet he stood straight and calm, like he had simply swatted a fly instead of killing another human being.

Jack must've made a noise, then: it was the only reason Chase's head would swivel to focus on him so quickly and Jack couldn't help his shiver at the sharpness of those golden, predator's eyes. They softened as they landed upon the slim, dark figure pressed up against the wall, but Jack remained tense.

If he knew he whimpered when Chase took a step towards him, he certainly didn't care.

"Spicer," Chase said, and Jack jumped, now jarred by the casual, normal tone he was so used to. "Jack…you're trembling."

"A-am I?" Jack managed to stutter out, though his voice was regrettably squeaky. "M-must be cold in here, I g-guess…"

Chase frowned lightly and approached him. "You're frightened," he deduced, coming to stand directly before his consort. "You've never seen a murder before?"

For a second, Jack allowed his eyes to look past Chase, at the bloody, mangled heap of something that used to be human. He swallowed hard and looked away from it again immediately. "N-no," he admitted.

"You needn't be afraid," Chase said gently, a hand cupping Jack's cheek. It was cold and wet. "You must know I'd never hurt you."

Jack shivered. He _was_ scared, but deep down…he did know. "Yeah," he said quietly. "You wouldn't…"

"Never," Chase assured, removing his hand. Idly, he admired the handprint he had left; the bright red wetness emblazoned upon Jack's pretty white skin like a brand of ownership.

Now, Chase shivered.

"Jack," he said warmly. "My Jack… I understand that you must be…disturbed, right now."

Jack nodded.

Chase took another step forward, one that brought him flush against his consort and his consort flattened against the wall. "Even so," he murmured, his eyes traveling along the lovely, regrettably clothed body, "there is a certain…passion stirred in me after a good battle; a good _kill._"

Jack blinked. "You want me? Now…?"

Chase nodded. "What do you suppose becomes of battle-lust when the battle ends Jack?"

"Lust," said Jack.

Chase smiled at him, a warm and seductive thing that Jack found quite took his mind off of what had just taken place. "I would like to share that lust with you," he murmured at Jack's ear. "I would have you share my passion with me, xin aí: you and no one else…"

Jack decided he liked not thinking about It so much. He would prefer to think later, when the incident was weeks, days, even _hours_ behind him; just not so fresh as this. "Distract me," he asked of his lover.

Chase happily did just that, his magic taking he and Jack to their bedroom to enjoy themselves. By the time they finished, the corpse would be very much gone: the hungry jungle cats of the palace would see to that.

_**Red Violet-**_

_Violets are red, roses are blue;_

Wait, what the fuck?

Oh, well, it doesn't matter,

As long as I have you.

Chase snorted in amusement. "Really, Jack?"

"Totally," Jack said in confidence. "You're just as special as blue roses, and who gives a fuck if violets are red if I'm yours?"

"Not quite what I meant," Chase smiled, shutting the handmade card.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "What _did_ you mean, then?"

Chase shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I have you."

Jack smiled and sat in his lover's lap. "Happy Valentine's Day, Chase!" he said, giving his overlord a peck on the cheek.

Chase accepted it with decorum and a grin, splaying his hand on Jack's lower back. "Happy Valentine's Day, Spicer," he purred in return.

_**Robin's Egg Blue-**_

"Down, boy," snapped Chase, "easy! Sit!"

Jack whined, shifting from foot to foot for a moment before seating himself on the nearest chair. "Gimme," he demanded, holding out his hand.

"Not just yet."

"What?" Jack looked positively devastated at this, and Chase smirked.

"You attacked me over this, Spicer," he reminded, considering the pale blue egg in his palm. "You tried to bite me; barked at me like a dog… If you truly want it so bad, you shall _really_ act like a dog."

Jack scowled. "No way," he flatly denied. "I'm not gonna—"

Chase raised the egg to his lips and made to bite it.

Jack _whimpered_ like a puppy and Chase barely restrained his laugh.

"Okay!" Jack said. "I'll…I'll do it, just…don't eat it, okay?"

Chase smirked. "Excellent. You've already mastered a human sit," he observed. "Let's try a canine sit."

Frowning, Jack stood from the chair and knelt on the floor with his hands out in front of him.

"Good boy," praised the everlord. "Now, lay."

"But—!" Jack tried to protest.

"Lay or no treat."

With a heavy sigh, Jack flopped forward in his kneel, his elbows on the ground.

Chase grinned. "Wonderful," he purred, "but I can't help but wonder…does my puppy do tricks, as well?"

"Aw, come on, Chase…!" Jack whined.

"Ah, he speaks!" Chase reached down to ruffle Jack's hair. "Can my smart puppy shake, too?"

Jack growled.

"Aggressive dogs are hardly rewarded," Chase informed. "Now, can you shake?"

Jack's cheeks flushed red, though whether from anger or embarrassment (or both), it was uncertain. Even so, he sat up again and raised his arm, allowing his hand to dangle in a paw-like fashion.

Chase took it and raised it up and down in the motion of a handshake. "Good boy," he grinned. "I think I've made you suffer enough."

Immediately, Jack was up on his feet, hand held out in demand. "You've had your fun at my expense," he scowled. "Now _give_ it."

The small egg was given over, for Chase was a man of his word. Jack took it hastily and popped it into his mouth, savoring the taste of the candy shell before it dissolved away to the delicious chocolate within.

Jack happily went traipsing off, as if he'd not just been utterly humiliated by his master and Chase chuckled to himself.

He had _plans_ for these Cadbury Eggs his consort went so mental for…

_**Royal Purple-**_

Shedding clothes like an animal sheds a summer coat, Chase and Jack stumbled into the bedroom. They clung to each other as if a moment of separation could very well kill them.

Even so, Jack managed to jerk his mouth away from Chase's, startled by the splash of color upon the bed. "Purple?" he gasped breathlessly, even as Chase replaced Jack's lips with his collarbone and began kissing and nipping and licking there.

"The color of royalty," Chase explained, just as breathless and twice as muffled due to his current activities. "What better shade for a Heylin prince?"

Jack shrugged it off as he was tossed down onto the purple sheets and quickly topped, helping Chase to peel off the last of his undergarments. "Works for me," he decided.

_**Salmon-**_

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Jack turned his eyes away from the stream, glancing at the everlord at his side. "Yeah, they're pretty," he agreed, returning his focus to the fish swimming upstream; scales glinting beneath the water. "I don't know if I can get behind the ideal, though."

Chase quirked an eyebrow.

"Well," Jack elaborated, "they go out and live their lives, then travel miles out of their way; out of the ocean, upstream, risking all kinds of death, namely from bears, and all to partake in 'the miracle of life.'"

"I always considered it a satirical statement," Chase opined. "The things mortal creatures will do for just one chance at sex."

Jack shrugged. "I never understood it," he admitted.

"Really?" wondered Chase. "I was under the impression that you quite liked sex."

"With you? I sincerely doubt it's _possible_ not to like sex," Jack smirked. "The concept of doing absolutely _anything_ to get sex from _anyone_: _that's_ what goes over my head. I mean…like with the salmon, is getting laid once and making some kids really worth dying for?"

"In the grand scheme of things, yes," Chase informed. "If _no one_ felt sex and reproduction was worth dying for, the species would die out."

"Good riddance."

Chase snorted. "We're doing our part to make that happen," he said, "in however small a way."

"Enjoying all the pleasures of sex and none of the kids?" Jack grinned.

"Exactly," Chase smirked, looping an arm around Jack's waist. "Let's keep it that way."

Jack leaned into his everlord's embrace and silently went back to watching the fish.

_**Scarlet-**_

Jack idly pondered censorship as he doodled in his notebook, sketching ideas for his next issue.

As of late, the goth had taken up drawing and found himself to be quite good at it, a byproduct of his many years in drafting up detailed and realistic blueprints for his inventions. One day, boredom and an advert for the newest movie-from-a-comic had spurred him to try his hand at making his own comic.

Within only a few weeks, The Scarlet Blade series had become something of a phenomenon on the internet, where it'd originally been posted, and after much praise, Jack decided to make it the real thing. With his fortune and prestige, it was really no trouble getting the thing published as a legitimate comic book, and with that out of the way, the work spoke for itself.

Critics hailed The Scarlet Blade for its refreshing perspective, following the story of an up-and-coming supervillain who was having quite a bit of trouble starting out. His nemeses and tentative allies, the Wu Xing Five, Dame Spirit, and Lord Dragonheart also attracted quite a bit of attention and each grew their own cultish fanbase.

The title character, of course, was still the most popular, which flattered Jack immensely considering where the idea for him had come.

He also found himself quite a bit pleased with the wave of fanart and fanfiction that had come forth for his series. There were the sucky ones, of course, the Mary Sues and the plotholes and 'what the hell is this, I don't even's, but most prominently, Jack noticed a slash pairing: one _particular_ slash pairing.

Fangirls and fanboys around the world, it seemed, had a veritable hard-on for 'Scarletheart,' the coupling of Scarlet Blade and Lord Dragonheart, so much so that nearly seventy-percent of the fanmail he received regarded it.

The flood of Scarletheart fanwork only tripled when Jack at last came out and made the statement that, in his perfect world, Scarlet Blade and Lord Dragonheart would be boinking copiously.

As he thought this, Jack snapped back to reality to find he had stopped doodling Scarlet Blade long ago. Without his consent, his hand had got to drawing detailed sketches of Dragonheart, instead, looking distinctly more Chase-like than usual.

Amongst the doodles was a dashing full body shot, a close-up of a spandex-clothed backside, and a headshot with wickedly smirking lips.

Jack blushed, immediately remembering the last Showdown he had attended (they were fantastic inspiration).

The monks were perfectly aware of the comic, but the Wu Xing Five were completely different people with completely different characters from them: only the general idea of the Xiaolin monks had been used to inspire them. The monks consequently never really brought it up.

Wuya, as a ghost, could hardly pick up and read a comic book, so she had no idea she, too, had been used as inspiration. She said nothing about it, either.

Chase, however…

At the last Showdown Jack had attended, he had won. It was a rare victory for him and a momentous occasion for which he had been overjoyed until Chase had silently come up to him and stared.

Jack remembered very clearly being nervous; wondering if he had somehow offended Chase by creating a fictional doppelganger that only somewhat looked like him. He _knew_ he had not given Chase cause to be upset by Lord Dragonheart's behavior, though, for he had made the character a wicked, terrible, all-powerful being with a strict code of honor, and Chase should not have found fault in any of that…

That was about the time the warlord had caught hold of his chin and kissed him deeply on the mouth.

Jack had squeaked and stared at Chase afterwards, floundering for a response.

"Put that in your little comic," Chase had said to him before anything came to mind. "Make it canon, and I shall see about making it based on true events."

Chase had vanished and Jack had flown himself home on autopilot, still in shock. All was well, now, though, and Jack had given plenty of thought to Chase's words.

Really, the only current question was how graphic a sex scene he could get away with.

_**Screamin' Green-**_

Chase was pouting.

Never mind that he was pouting in an amusement park; on a _rollercoaster,_ for that matter, he was _irritated._

In the seat beside him, Jack was having the time of his life, shrieking joyfully in that ear-shattering way of his while other riders either did the same or tried to hold back nausea.

The coaster went for a loop and Jack screamed again, even as Chase continued to pout and wonder why he was screaming louder now than he _ever_ had in bed.

_**Sea Green-**_

Slowly, Jack felt himself returning to awareness, though it was through a foggy haze that had him quite puzzled. Usually when he felt a haze like this, it was because he hadn't slept enough, most often thanks to an alarm clock.

This was weird for Jack, as he knew he'd thrown out his alarm clock _at least_ three years ago. Even so, he didn't hear…_anything,_ actually. He briefly wondered if he had just woken up at the wrong time on accident.

It was around that point that Jack was struck with the disturbing realization that he was not breathing.

Before he could think about it, he felt a sharp pressure on his abdomen, probably strong enough to crack his ribs. Whatever it was seemed to trigger something within him and he choked, gagging helplessly as water spilled forth from his lips.

Jack coughed raggedly, sputtering as the instinctive process of breathing once more kicked in and cleared his lungs of cold, salty water.

Abruptly, he found his hearing back, as well, and over his own hacking, he could hear someone speaking.

"…swear to _every_ god that will listen, Spicer," someone was growling, "if you leave me, I'll resurrect you and kill you _myself!_"

Jack had calmed a bit, enough that he was no longer spitting up sea water and was instead hungrily gulping down air. He wasn't quite sure how he found the strength within himself to open his eyes.

"Ch…Chase…?" he managed to speak, wincing at the hoarseness of his voice.

For the effort, he received an open palm against his cheek. The slap stung, but Jack found he didn't mind it: it reaffirmed the fact that he was alive.

"You selfish little twerp," Chase snarled, a scowl on his face and panic in his eyes. "How _dare_ you do that to me? You are _mine,_ Spicer! Death can't _have_ you!"

Jack smiled. "'course not," he weakly croaked out. "Reaper's a pussy. You'd win in a fight every time. 'sides, I like _you_ better'n some dumb bag of bones."

Chase's scowl eased. "You had damn well better," he said.

_**Sepia-**_

Chase found himself staring at the photograph in his hand, completely without words.

The picture itself was nothing special. In fact, it was a perfectly average scene that was captured; so average that Chase could not recall the exact date or situation it had taken place in, as there were so many similar incidents in his lifetime.

He and his consort were in the photo, snuggling warmly on a couch. Chase himself was in a relaxed position, reclining with Jack sitting in his lap and smiling up at him. A perfectly normal, perfectly frequent thing for the two of them (at least when in private).

What had caught his attention regarding the picture was the light wash of brown that seemed to have toned it all over.

Was the photograph really so old? he wondered. It hadn't seemed too long ago that he had made Jack his. Had so much time truly passed already?

Chase thought harder about the picture, specifically where and when it was taken. The couch they sat on was familiar to him: a modern-looking thing that was clearly expensive.

That couch had sat in the den of the Spicer mansion. He and Jack had been there many times, he recalled happily, chatting and enjoying themselves with Mrs. Spicer. In fact, Sylvia had probably _taken_ this photo!

…But Sylvia was dead. She had died many years ago, a peaceful death in her sleep. Jack hadn't cried; he claimed he was too old for that, but he had been inconsolably morose for several weeks after the fact.

Good gods, though, that had been…what? Fifty years ago? _Sixty?_

Had it _really_ been so long ago that he had taken Jack?

It was at this point that Jack wandered into the room, clearly looking for Chase. "Oh," he grinned upon seeing him, "there you are! What're you looking at?"

Chase set the sepia-toned photograph down and smiled at his most loyal, longest-ever consort. "Nothing," he said casually. "Nothing at all."

_**Shadow-**_

For Jack, shadows had always been safe, and with good reason: light had always been his enemy.

Since birth, his paleness had made him a target of the sun, leaving his skin tight and red and peeling with even minimal exposure. When he'd started school, light was where his classmates could see his odd looks or watch him applying sunscreen and laugh; mocking his every flaw and oddity. When he had at last dropped out of school, light was still the enemy, for every morning, it woke him from dreams of a better, more prestigious life.

Shadows were his ally and always had been. They protected him from the sun and kept his skin white and pale, as it should be. They hid him when he'd needed reprieve from his tormenting peers and eased away his insecurities. They let him sleep and dream and kept him safe for as long as they could.

Of course, this made it only natural for his heart to fall to the shadows, as well, and when he found himself in love with Chase Young, the living personification of darkness and evil and all else shadows stood for, Jack was hardly surprised.

Jack never actually explained to Chase why he always preferred to go on outings with his master at night, nor clarified exactly why he always gave a little shudder of lust whenever Chase materialized from nothing but darkness.

It was obvious anyways, for Jack had always found acceptance in shadows.

_**Shamrock-**_

"Could you be any _less_ subtle, Jack?" Chase wondered aloud.

Jack continued to stare blankly at his lord and master, staying completely silent. He was allowing his manner of dress to speak for him: the tiny shamrock pinned to the collar of his jacket, the sinfully tight green pants, a silver and green Claddagh pendant around his neck, and of course, the green, white, and orange t-shirt that boldly proclaimed, 'FUCK ME, I'M PART IRISH.'

Chase sighed. "I'm hardly one to turn this down," he eventually admitted. "Bedroom in five; and _do_ be out of those ridiculous clothes by the time I get there."

_**Shocking Pink-**_

"Really, Chase?"

"I like the color pink," Chase said resolutely.

"_Really,_ Chase?"

"They're comfortable," Chase explained further. There was no embarrassment, of course, just a simple statement of fact. The warlord might as well have been talking of the weather.

Jack stared hard at the neon-pink crotchless panties. "I…I still don't get it," he said helplessly. "I mean…of course they're comfortable, they're not _there._ You might as well be going commando, and that's…that's _way_ manlier than…"

"True men have no qualms about wearing pink, Spicer," Chase shrugged. "And as for those versus going commando, I'll have you know they look quite dashing on me."

"…I'm pretty sure 'dashing' isn't the right word here."

Chase snorted. "Dashing, sexy, _cute,_ even; I make them look _quite_ good."

Jack's perplexed frown slowly transformed into a smirk. "Prove it," he said eventually.

"Hmm?"

"Prove to me that this," he held up the raunchy undergarment, "looks good on you. Model it for me."

Chase grinned. "Are you sure you can handle it?" he wondered. "Greater men than you have fallen before the sexiness of myself wearing that underwear."

Jack tossed the panties to Chase. "I think I've got the right stuff," he decided.

Chase merely laughed and sauntered into the bathroom to change.

_**Silver-**_

"Focus," Chase instructed firmly. "Don't get distracted."

Jack was hardly as calm as his master. His cheeks were flushed and his body trembled with exertion. "T-trying," he stuttered out. "This is f-fucking _hard_…!"

Chase nodded in agreement. "Yours is the toughest element to master, but easily one of the strongest once mastered. There _is_ a reason there hasn't been a dragon of metal in upwards of four centuries, but I know you, Jack. A smart and capable young man like you… You will learn."

Bolstered by the praise, Jack's ego thankfully kicked in and steeled his resolve to complete this task. To fail was to prove the monks and all of his enemies right in calling him weak and useless; prove Chase _wrong_ in suggesting otherwise.

Chase was _never_ wrong and who the hell was Jack to make it so?

Jack gritted his teeth and threw himself into his element completely. He felt with all his being each and every particle of metal in the ground beneath him and pulled them together, remembering the ancient scrolls he had read on how to polarize the individual atoms of metals to magnetize them into a desired shape.

Chase grinned as something sharp and silver began to poke its way through the ground. It was slow-going, but steady and a long, thin javelin was rising from the earth, glinting metallically in the light.

"Excellent," he congratulated as a shaky white hand grasped the finished weapon.

Jack smiled, weakly, but sincerely. "Thanks," he said. "I dunno if this'll do me any good in battle though. I think I'd keel over right now if I had to fight with this."

Chase merely tilted his head and observed as Jack's knees buckled and he caught himself with the javelin, using it to brace his weight like a cane. "That's natural," he assured. "You're only a beginner and metal truly _is_ a monumentally difficult element to master. It is yours, however, and it will come with time and practice. Eventually, once you've become strong enough and with your intimate knowledge of technology, I imagine you'll be able to pull an entire jet from the earth without breaking a sweat."

Jack's grin brightened. "You really think so?"

"I know so," Chase declared, and who was Jack to say he was wrong?

_**Sky Blue-**_

Jack happily watched from the safety of his parasol, a silly, love-struck look on his face.

Chase stood a bit away from him, smirking to himself at the sheer attraction he felt radiating from his consort. Even so, he smoothly continued into another kata, simultaneously exercising his body and turning on his beloved.

Jack was perfectly happy to observe from the shade, pondering how beautiful Chase was in sunshine. In such bright light, every brilliant shade of color in his attire was visible, from the deep red of his sash to the shining bronze of his armor, and it was lovely. His flawless, buttercream complexion was gorgeous illuminated like this, and the glimpses Jack got of those golden eyes were simply enchanting.

Of course, Chase's hair, as usual, seemed to garner most of Jack's attention. The black-green locks flicked behind the everlord with his every twist and motion, and from Jack's low-to-the-ground perspective, backdropped wonderfully by the endless stretch of cloudless blue above.

Jack sighed dreamily for what had to be the hundredth time, settling further beneath the cool shade of his parasol and watching.

_**Spring Green-**_

"You're making dessert, tonight?" Chase hummed with a smile, watching Jack tie an apron around his waist.

"Yeah," said Jack, meandering into the kitchen. "Why?"

"I always enjoy being waited on by you," said Chase, idly following. "As the 'consort' to my 'master,' it's expected of you. That, and you most certainly know your way around a kitchen."

Jack smirked. "Naturally."

"What's on your agenda tonight, Spicer?" Chase wondered. "Pie? Muffins? Cupcakes?"

"Something new," shrugged Jack. "I've never made it before, but I found a recipe and figured it couldn't hurt to try it out. Ever heard of pandan chiffon?"

Immediately, the dragonlord perked. The very _thought_ of the treat was drool-inducing: a pretty, frosted confection, the cake stained a lovely green by the pandan leaves used to flavor it. Already, Chase longed to sink his teeth into the light and fluffy cake, and wash it down with an appropriate tea.

"It's been ages since I've had it," he admitted. "I confess, I've missed the taste."

Jack smiled brightly at him. "I'll be extra super careful not to fuck it up, then," he decided. "I'll make it with extra love."

Chase snorted and continued to watch as his consort began bustling about the kitchen and collected supplies and ingredients for the pandan cake, perfectly happy to watch _only_ and not get involved in the process.

Food always tasted better when made with love, certainly, but it tasted even _better_ when made by someone else.

The perks of being a lord, for certain.

_**Sunglow-**_

"If I were a snake," Jack declared, "I would be a sunglow boa."

Chase merely stared at him. "A what, now?"

"A sunglow boa constrictor," Jack went on. "Y'know, the ones that show traits for albinism and salmon coloring. Still mostly pale scales and red eyes, but a whole bunch of splashes of orangey color."

Chase nodded. "Fair enough," he said, "although I'm still not sure how the discussion got to this point."

Now, Jack stared. "You still haven't learned to stop asking questions about the things I say randomly?" he gawked.

_**Sunset Orange-**_

"Hey, Chase," said Jack curiously, "do you know anyplace in need of an explosion?"

"…" Chase stared at the wired orange with an electronic timer in Jack's hand. "…why do you ask?"

"Well, this thing's set to go off by sunset," Jack explained. "I'd prefer it not happen here, but I can't really think of anywhere I need to explode."

"Wait," said Chase, "I thought you were _done_ with citrus explosives. You moved onto vegetables."

Jack snorted. "That was my breakout role, Chase. I'm going back to basics; a gritty reboot!"

Chase said nothing, only facepalmed _hard._

Ignoring him, Jack gasped. "I know!" he exclaimed. "Guan's temple! I already hit the monks, but I didn't get him! Thanks, Chase!" And with that, he practically skipped out of the room.

Chase only just resisted the temptation to reintroduce his skull to the wall.

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

**A/N: THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS. Here is a status-update on this project, listing each segment by its Collection name (all of which can be found on good ol' Wiki, if you're interested):**

**STANDARD - Begun, not finished.**

**SILVER SWIRLS - To be written.**

**MAGIC SCENT - To be written.**

**GEM TONES - Excluded: nearly all colors touched on in Gems of Chack.**

**CHANGEABLES - Excluded: too specific.**

**COLOR MIX-UP - To be written.**

**PEARL BRITE - Excluded: too difficult to write for colors that all include the word 'pearl.'**

**CRAYONS WITH GLITTER - Excluded: too specific.**

**METALLIC FX - To be written.**

**SILLY SCENTS - To be written.**

**HEADS 'N TAILS - To be written.**

**TRUE TO LIFE - To be written.**

**EXTREME TWISTABLES - To be written.**

**Only thing I can think of to say right now is regarding Sepia: this is not the last of Sylvia Spicer. I'm sure I'll be using her again at some point, but for the purpose of this one color set several decades in the future of Chack's relationship, she has logically died.**

**Aside from that...I think I don't really have anything to say, so...**

**Thanks for reading! I hope you liked the newest installment! :D**


	6. S: T to Y

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Tan-**_

At the sound of the shrill, feminine shriek that could have come from only one person, Chase burst into the bedroom to find Jack before the mirror, staring in horror at his reflection.

He and Jack had been out in the sun recently, and Jack had not applied much sunscreen, so Chase had expected to see painfully red skin upon his consort.

The pale tinge of peach that had replaced the usual white on Jack's hands and face, however, was new.

Jack eventually turned to face his master. "Chase," he said as if in a daze, "I…I think I…_tanned._"

Just as soon as he said it, he found himself plucked from before the mirror and plopped onto the bed. The shades of the room were magically drawn even as Chase set about the task of wrapping Jack up in several layers of sheets and blankets that shielded every part of him from view and allowed only just enough space to breathe.

Chase took a step back and inspected his bundled consort, nodding in approval of his work. "Stay that way until the pigment fades," he ordered, then turning on his heel and leaving to resume his prior business.

Jack smiled after him, touched by the gesture until he realized how little he could move and how badly his nose itched.

_**Teal Blue-**_

"What are you doing to me, Spicer?"

"Making you pretty," Jack answered, continuing on with his task. "Hold still or I might tangle something."

Chase sighed and kept his eyes straight forward, obediently remaining still as his hair was carefully handled. "You said this was a themed party," he recalled, making conversation. "Exactly what theme is it?"

"The zoo," said Jack. "Y'know, lions and tigers and bears—oh my! That kind of thing."

Chase frowned. "I certainly hope for _your_ sake, Spicer, that whatever you're doing back there is tasteful."

Jack only laughed. "You know me better than that," he chuckled. "I'd never defame a national treasure. Plenty of people are gonna be coming to the party in stupid or silly costumes; in fact, I bet you fifty bucks I see more guys in gorilla suits than I can count on one hand. We're going a different route."

"Classy, I should hope?"

"See for yourself," Jack invited, pulling away from his overlord and handing him a large mirror.

Chase took it and stared in surprise for a moment at his own sheer loveliness.

Before allowing him anywhere near a reflective surface, Jack had dressed Chase in clothing of an iridescent blue teal with gold edging on all of the hems. His throat and ears had also been adorned with gold, and Jack had quite insisted on painting thickly around his eyes in black; over-the-top for anything that wasn't meant as a costume and swooping dramatically at the corners in Egyptian fashion.

Either way, it made the gold of his eyes pop magnificently, as did the decorations in his hair.

Jack, apparently, had spent the last half-hour or so threading the dark locks with scores of feathers. His natural green highlights were wonderfully brought out by the feathers' green fringe and the circles of brown, teal blue (of the same shade he wore on his body), and deep indigo only added a further splash of color.

"A peacock, am I?" Chase wondered.

"Naturally," smirked Jack, even as he moved over to the wardrobe's mirror and began to check on his own appearance.

It now made an excellent amount of sense to Chase why Jack was dressed in plain, uninteresting white clothing without any makeup or jewelry and had even bleached his normally napalm orange hair before spiking it up as usual.

"Are you to be my white peahen?" he asked, even as Jack turned away from the mirror and smiled at him.

"The luckiest hen ever," assured Jack. "I'll be having the prettiest cock in the world on my arm _all_ night…"

_**Thistle-**_

"I hate you," Chase firmly declared one evening, snuggling with his consort.

Immediately, Jack was frowning, puppy eyes in effect. "What? Why?"

"Look at me," said Chase, gesturing to their position. "We're _cuddling_ in front of a fireplace! Evil everlords don't cuddle," he growled, "they destroy and maim and wreak havoc!"

"Who said they can't do both?" Jack wondered.

"Everyone everywhere _ever._" Chase sighed. "I used to be like a rose: beautiful and look-but-don't-touch. Now…_you've_ turned me into thistle: pretty, but touch-if-you-want-it-doesn't-really-matter. I hate you."

Jack took note of the fact that even though Chase's words were irritated, his body continued to hold him close; snuggling still.

"You're still badass," he said definitively, "and you're still a rose. I've just figured out how to navigate your thorns. Do you really think after more than a thousand years of evil-doing, _one_ guy is gonna turn you good?"

Chase said nothing.

"I can't change you," Jack said. "I wouldn't want to: I fell in love with Chase Young, Heylin lord of awesomeness. I wouldn't look twice if you were a goody-goody. Do you think I'd _want_ to cuddle with you if you were fluffy and nice and sweet?"

"Perhaps," said Chase noncommittally.

Jack shook his head. "You're evil and I'm hugely attracted to that," he explained. "I want to cuddle with you _because_ you don't normally do it. I'm in love with you as you are and if you'd gotten softer, I would be the first to know and tell you to man up, 'cause I want my sexy lord of chaos, not some icky _monk._"

Chase snorted. "Keep watch for that," he said, somewhat appeased. "I'm not sure I trust myself to maintain evilness with a softie like you affecting me."

Jack smiled and elbowed his overlord. "Fuck you, jerkass," he chuckled. "We'll go harass some monks later and we'll see who's a softie."

Chase smiled, as well, to find himself immediately whapping his consort upside the head for the strike. "You're on, Spicer."

_**Tickle Me Pink-**_

"…_Chase Young can laugh?_"

"I…would reckon so…"

"Everybody can laugh, Omi. It's just…really creepy to see him do it."

"It's not creepy, it's…kinda sweet."

"…you're kidding, Kim. Tell me you're kidding."

"No, really, it's…nice. Look how much fun they're having!"

"…"

"Alright, yeah, it's a little out of the ordinary, but they're totally distracting themselves, right? We can just take the Wu while they're busy."

"Yes, let us leave very quickly."

"Seconded."

"Ditto: I need some brain bleach, man, _urgently_."

Kimiko merely pouted and followed her fellow monks in grabbing the newly-activated mystical item, even as she thought of the long, white fingers playfully tormenting the red-faced Heylin everlord behind her and heard the giggling shrieks of, "Godsdammit, Spicer, I'll kill you, I swear I will…!"

_**Timberwolf-**_

Chase raised a skeptical eyebrow at his consort, seemingly unperturbed by the chilly weather. "Aren't you freezing, Jack?" he wondered aloud.

Jack merely glanced over once, soon returning his gaze back to the whitewashed surroundings of the forest. "Nah," he said, "I'm fine."

"I only ask because you're mortal," Chase went on. "Mortals like you tend not to hesitate in complaining endlessly of coldness."

Jack continued traipsing through the snow with his master. "Normally, I would be complaining," he admitted, "but this shit is _cozy._"

Chase looked at the coat and glove combo upon the youth, completed with a matching hat that nicely covered his ears against the bite of the wind. "What are they made of?"

"Cotton lined with wolf fur," declared Jack quite proudly. "Only thing better would be polar bear, but y'know…they're a little scarier than wolves."

Chase's eyes widened. "You hunt wolves? _You?_"

Jack stared at him aghast. "Hunt?" he gaped. "What…why would I…? Oh…oh, no, I didn't kill any wolves. I love those guys!"

"Then—"

"I just shaved one," Jack explained. "No wolves were harmed in the making of my warmness, thank you very much."

Chase frowned. "…How did you manage to _shave_ a _wolf_?"

"It's a long story," said Jack. "Y'see, a couple years ago, I—"

"Never mind," Chase cut in. "I'm not sure I want to know."

Jack laughed. "Now, you're catching on."

_**Tropical Rainforest-**_

Chase tossed his head back, feeling utterly refreshed as cool water, having soaked his hair, caused it to whip behind him like a lash even as he wrung it out. The liquid dripped down his face and over his shoulders, but it didn't much matter to him: his body was entirely wet anyways, so what were a few more glistening drops?

Across the nice little valley they'd found under plenty of canopy cover, Jack called to his master. "Oh, Chase," he cooed warmly, "all this humidity…I seem to have sweat my pants right off!"

Chase smirked, wading back into the natural pool and edging himself closer and closer to its waterfall. "Sweat off the rest of your clothes," he invited with a sultry voice. "Then, you can come on in and…clean up…"

Needless to say, Jack was quickly shedding his remaining clothing, even as his overlord disappeared into the cool, dark cove behind the crash of water to await him.

_**Tumbleweed-**_

When Jack had begun making attempts to conceal his purchases from his master, Chase had not pried. Neither had he investigated too deeply when Jack holed up in his private garden more than usual and failed to invite Chase in.

Had this strange behavior been towards the beginning of Jack's consortship, when his loyalty had not yet been proven and his fealty remained in constant question, Chase would've investigated without hesitation to make _certain_ he was not being plotted against.

Now, however, he was fairly certain that Jack had proven his deference to Chase and so, he was allowed a bit of privacy.

Of course, just because he was not actively prying did not mean Chase remained completely ignorant of Jack's doings. They shared a closet, after all, and it was hard not to notice when new clothing began popping up here and there.

The first thing he noticed was a plain shirt, brown and purposefully tattered at the sleeves. Next came a pair of pants nicely folded towards the back of the walk-in closet, leather with decorative white stars from ankle to calf.

It took a powerful force of will to keep quiet about those instead of simply demanding Jack wear them for him.

After the pants, a red poncho appeared, diamonds of magenta in the middle and tucked neatly away beneath a pair of black cowboy boots.

Now was when Chase really began to wonder, especially as Jack had been spending even _more_ time in his garden and as his master had noticed, begun wearing new gloves. They were still fingerless, but instead of being open in the back, they bore a white skull and crossbones decal. Yet more curious, Chase had noticed his consort's new makeup in the medicine cabinet: liquid eyeliner of red and brown just beside the stick of black he normally used.

The final bit of icing on the strange cake was a hat found in the closet. Worn and frayed at the edges; curled at the front of the brim, the black cowboy hat sat innocently beside the poncho and boots in the closet, a skull and crossbones decal upon it (to match the gloves, Chase noticed), a red silk band around it, and a black feather protruding from the silk. Chase was _certain_ he would be prodding Jack for answers about this.

Of course, Chase never got the opportunity to ask.

The very next day saw him wide-eyed and gaping as Jack, outfitted in all of his new clothing and holding a guitar (black and red, once more with skull and crossbones) stood amongst several hundreds of tumbleweeds in the hallway using them as target practice.

Target practice, in that the guitar had been technologically modified so that when a note was strummed, a laser would burst forth at the user's command.

Jack was laughing in wicked glee as he obliterated tumbleweed after tumbleweed with his laser-guitar. Bright red stars had been painted on his face in a star-pattern, the tip being formed by the star in the center of his forehead and it was accented nicely with curling lines of brown and the black lines that had been painted over his lips; providing the look of grinning, skeletal teeth.

All told, while odd, the look was…interesting on Jack.

Even so, Chase very firmly decided not to ask _any_ questions, most especially when his consort continued to laugh evilly and declare, "This is gonna be the best Con _ever!_"

Instead, he wisely kept his mouth shut and moved on, allowing Jack to blast tumbleweeds with his laser-guitar.

_**Turquoise Blue-**_

Chase growled playfully, nipping at a spot just below Jack's ear. "Spicer," he purred warmly, "you asked me a question earlier…"

Jack was panting and barely coherent, possibly a result of his master's hand busying itself quite south of the border. "Mhm, yeah…?" he managed in response.

"You asked me," said Chase, nuzzling his new consort's neck, "why my bedroom was purple."

Jack whined, feeling Chase pause aside from the nuzzling. "Yeah, so?" he demanded.

"Why is _your_ bedroom turquoise?"

"Later," said Jack, only to whimper with need as Chase stopped altogether.

"Now," insisted Chase.

"C-calming color!" Jack blurted immediately. "S'good for panic attacks when I get 'em, now, please—_yes…!_"

Chase was happy to resume his ministrations upon his wanton lover, even as in the back of his mind, he made it a personal mission that Jack would never need to be calmed by the color of this room again.

_**Unmellow Yellow-**_

"What?"

Chase continued to scowl at his consort.

"_What?_" Jack asked again. "We're not eating dinner or anything; I can put my feet up!"

Chase said nothing.

"Look," said Jack, "we were trekking _all over_ those mountains back there looking for a dumb Wu that changes the colors of stuff. My feet _hurt._ I can put 'em on the damn table if I like!"

"I would prefer those vile boots of yours _and_ their vile message be pointed away from _me,_ Spicer," Chase finally spoke.

Jack frowned. "'Vile message'? What the hell are you…? Oh. Ohhhhhhh."

Chase observed warily as Jack removed his feet from the tabletop and removed his black boots, glancing briefly at the yellow rubber of the tread where the letters 'f' and 'u' had been crafted into the middle of the sole. Coincidentally, the 'f' and 'u' seemed to be right in the middle of a tread-pattern that looked incredibly like a middle finger being given.

"You're way too easily offended," decided Jack, setting aside the offensive boots and once more settling his heels on the table. "You _know_ that wasn't meant for you."

Chase scoffed. "And who, pray tell, was it meant for?"

"Everybody else," Jack grinned. "Besides, never underestimate the power of a good pair of Deadpool boots."

Chase merely sneered and continued sipping blue tea from a green cup as he sat in a hot pink chair at the purple table.

_**Violet-**_

"I truly don't get you," declared Jack. "Out of _every_ super in this movie, you pick _Violet._ The fuck, man?"

"Her powers are the best," Chase shot back, eyes not leaving the screen. "That's why."

"Mr. Incredible," exclaimed Jack. "Super strength, endurance, enhanced senses—"

"All of which I already have," Chase pointed out.

"Frozone," Jack tried, "manipulation of ice!"

"I much prefer fire," said Chase calmly.

"Dash, then!" Jack folded his arms over his chest. "There's nothing wrong with super speed."

Chase merely shrugged. "Except for the fact that teleportation easily replaces it."

"Elastigirl?"

"I don't need to be stretchy," Chase said. "All the flexibility I need can be found in you, and you haven't disappointed me yet."

This did not, as the overlord had hoped, derail Jack's train of thought and he continued.

"What about Jack-Jack?" he asked. "He does _everything._"

"Too much," decided Chase. "With all of his supposed powers, it would be torture attempting to first, master them all and second, decide which is most appropriate for use in battle in split-second instances. It would be overwhelming."

Jack was quite soundly pouting, now. "And I suppose Syndrome's powers aren't good enough for you, either."

"Syndrome has no powers," Chase said flippantly.

Jack pouted harder.

"You _know_ he doesn't, Spicer," Chase insisted. "His talent lies in machinery, not superhuman gifts."

"Sound familiar?" Jack bitterly wondered.

Chase rolled his eyes. "Jack," he said coolly, "I never said a disparaging word against him—or you, for that matter. I merely said I would prefer forcefields and invisibility to robots."

"Why?" Jack scathingly wondered. "'cause robots suck?"

"Because robots do not fit with my theme," Chase informed. "Besides, what would be the point of being a technological wizard myself when I already _have_ the best there is as my consort? It would be quite superfluous, Jack."

As expected Jack was smiling now, pout quite gone as he snuggled up against Chase to watch the rest of the movie.

_**Vivid Tangerine-**_

"Holy fuckballs!" cackled a triumphant Jack, watching a tremendous inferno lick at the sky in the distance. "Did you know a tangerine-based bonfire could get that big?"

Chase shook his head, sighing.

Jack laughed again, the flames burning higher. "_Damn,_ I'm good at this!"

_**White-**_

For all the vibrant aspects of Jack's personality, Chase always found it immediately obvious when his consort was in a dour mood.

It seemed that Jack was in such a state now, slumped forward on his desk and completely motionless aside from the necessary pattern of breath. He was silent, and his normally bright red eyes were dull and listless as they stared off at nothing; as cold and as empty as a barren tundra.

"Artistic block?" Chase wondered aloud, easily sidling out of the shadows.

He received a grunt in response, accompanied by a halfhearted nod that rubbed Jack's flattened cheek against the table's surface.

"Anything I can do?"

Another grunt, but this time it actually sounded like something: a garbled, wordless 'nuh-uh.'

Chase came closer to his morose lover and placed a hand on the desk before Jack's face. He waited until Jack's eyes moved from the hand and followed up past the arm all the way to _his_ eyes before speaking. "Are you really feeling so uninspired that even I, Chase Young, am impotent to cure it?"

Jack bit his lip. He clearly _did not_ want to say that Chase was incapable of something, but neither could he imagine his mood improving anytime soon. "I feel more useless than a white crayon," he said eventually.

At this, Chase settled his other hand briefly upon Jack's shoulder. "White crayons aren't useless," he corrected. "They only need the right black paper to properly bring them out."

The warlord turned and left the room even as behind him, Jack had sat up and smiled; an invisible light bulb hovering just above his head.

_**Wild Blue Yonder-**_

"I'm bored," said Jack one day.

Chase nodded. "I am, too."

And of course, they were bored for it was the Year 2506 on good ol' planet Earth, meaning that Jack had been alive and nineteen for 496 years. A pittance, certainly, in comparison to Chase's round 2000, but Jack bored far easily than his master.

Nothing amused them anymore; not really. They enjoyed each other's company well enough, but in finding things to _do_ together, they had exhausted all possibilities. They had been out for fancy dinners, visited virtually every amusement park they could find, seen _all_ sorts of movies and natural phenomena, and after so long…

Well, plain and simple, it had become boring.

It was for this reason that on this day, Jack boldly declared, "Let's get the fuck out of here."

Chase raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

"Earth," he said casually. "Let's blow this pop-stand."

Chase perked ever so slightly. "You mean it?"

Jack snorted. "Yeah, what's this dirtball got left to offer us? Nothing," he said, not waiting for an answer, "nothing at all. We've seen all the sights, done all the stuff, tasted all the delicacies, absorbed all the culture… It's like vacationing: we've stayed at the one hotel _way_ too long. Why don't we go someplace different?"

"Different," Chase echoed. "Another planet?"

"Why not?" shrugged the youth. "There's been plenty of expeditions to other planets, now. There are ones habitable for human life, and everybody else is pretty much leaving now that they've sucked this one just about dry. We should pick a new place, too."

"I've lived on this planet for 2000 years," Chase said blankly.

"Which is about 1900 too many," Jack opined. "C'mon, it could be fun!"

Chase smirked. "I must admit, I _have_ wondered at those reports of pink leaves on that one planet…Xanzin, I believe."

Jack smiled eagerly. "Sounds good to me. Human settlers have got a really awesome tech-base there; _almost_ as good as mine."

Chase nodded. "A change of scenery would be beneficial," he decided. "If we truly don't like it there, we could always come back here. Perhaps by then, the last of mankind's stragglers will have left and we'll have the whole place to ourselves."

Jack was up on his feet immediately. "You start packing some bags," he instructed. "I'm gonna go make sure my spaceship hasn't fallen apart from disuse."

Chase watched him go with a grin, pleased to note that just the prospect of the move had driven boredom from his mind.

_**Wild Strawberry-**_

Chase tilted his head as he inspect the fruit in his consort's hand.

Jack laughed at him for it. "You're like a dog," he teased. "Centuries of living, but when something confuses you, you do the head-tilt."

Chase was, thankfully for Jack's sake, too puzzled by the fruit to be all too angry at the jab. "…this is a strawberry," he declared eventually, though his tone was dubious.

Jack nodded, confirming the conclusion. "Technically," he said, "they're called pineberries, but they're a strawberry cultivar."

Chase's hand slowly reached out, taking the small bit of fruit. It was white, he observed upon closer inspection, with red seeds! "Are they edible?" he had to wonder.

"Sure," said Jack. "Give it a try."

Chase warily inspected the pineberry for a long, long moment. Then, he brought it closer to himself, inhaling its fragrant scent easily even before its flesh was at all punctured. Smelling nothing chemical or unpleasant about it, he brought it to his lips and bit into it.

He wasn't exactly sure what he had expected, but for the most part, it did taste like a strawberry. The only exception was a slight tang of flavor accompanying the familiar taste; something a bit like pineapple.

"It's not bad," he eventually admitted.

"I figured you'd like it," Jack confidently declared. "You seem to have a taste for exotic red and white things."

Chase couldn't help his grin and Jack sidled up close to him, the beginnings of lust in his red eyes. He held the bitten pineberry to Jack's lips, and his consort quickly finished the bit of fruit, soon moving on to suckle the juice from Chase's fingers.

Chase's opinion of the pineberry was set in stone that very moment: anything that got his hot-blooded lover in the mood was alright by him.

_**Wild Watermelon-**_

"I love you," Jack announced.

Chase laughed.

"I'm not joking," Jack continued, quite seriously. "I love you. I loved you before and probably would've kept loving you forever, but _this_ cemented it."

"You're easily amused," Chase smirked at his consort.

"I know," allowed Jack, continuing to hug the heart-shaped watermelon he'd been gifted. "Leave me and the watermelon alone for awhile; I'll come find you later. I just…I just need to…hug this."

Chase laughed again and turned on his heel. "Have fun, you two," he taunted as he left.

The gibe fell on deaf ears as Jack continued to snuggle with his watermelon.

_**Wisteria-**_

"Have you ever heard the tale of the Wisteria Maiden?" Chase wondered aloud.

Jack had nearly been asleep when the question came, but he obliged his lover and semi-roused himself. "No," he said sleepily. "What's it about?"

Chase's eyes seemed fixed on the ceiling as he spoke. "It's about a painting of a woman," he began, "who held a branch of wisteria in her hand. One day, she fell hopelessly in love with a young man and came out of her painting, hoping to attract his attention. In the end, however, the effort was futile and she returned to her two-dimensional world; heartbroken and lonely with the wisteria in her hand."

Jack looked up at Chase with bleary eyes for a moment before planting a kiss on his cheek and settling back down on Chase's chest. "I won't scorn you," he promised sincerely. "I won't make you go back to the before-times. I'm here to stay, you know that."

"Yes," Chase slowly agreed, Jack drifting off to sleep upon him. "Yes, I know that."

_**Yellow-**_

"Jack," said Chase sternly, "I have something I've always wondered of you, but have never quite been able to ask."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"With your intellect," Chase began, "I'm sure you remember that alternate timeline we all experienced due to Omi's meddling; the one in which you had a brief stint as ruler of the globe."

Jack nodded.

Chase stared firmly at his consort. "Then, I'm sure you can answer me the question of _why_ you did what you did to us Heylin masters."

"Bean's a jerk," Jack said immediately. "I was trying to humiliate him."

"I guessed as much," Chase allowed, "but what about Wuya?"

"I was trying to hum—"

"I'm sure," Chase cut in. "But a _cheerleader's_ outfit, Jack?"

Jack made a face. "Well, I—"

"And as for me," the dragonlord carried on, "I understand the water torture: I was unnecessarily callous to you, so you would want to punish me, but in my _underwear?_ Painting my stomach with _honey?_ What, precisely, were you going for, Spicer?"

Jack bit his lip. Eventually, he spoke. "Do you want the long, convoluted answer, or the blunt and to the point one?"

"Blunt."

"I'm a pervert," Jack admitted with a faint blush. "Does that answer your question?"

Slowly, Chase nodded. "Yes," he said, "I essentially figured as much."

Jack frowned. "Then, why the hell'd you ask?"

Chase grinned. "To watch you squirm."

_**Yellow Green-**_

"What do you want to drink, Chase?" Jack called from the kitchen.

"Whatever lemon-lime thing is in the fridge," he shrugged in response.

He was met with a frigid silence, one so cold that he simply had to turn and look.

Jack stood in the door of the kitchen, staring at him darkly.

"What?" he demanded of his consort.

"Lemon-lime stuff is your favorite?" Jack asked.

Chase nodded.

"I like cola," Jack declared. "If you don't… Well, frankly, I don't see how this is gonna work between us."

Chase merely stared at Jack. "…You're joking," he accused.

"Soft drink schisms are a serious thing, Chase," Jack informed. "Do you know why my mom finally divorced my dad? It wasn't because he's never home or because he treated me like some kind of bastard offspring that wasn't even his. No, it was because he said Coke sucked and told the servants not to buy it for the mansion anymore!"

Chase nodded. "That sounds quite like Sylvia," he said. "_How_ did she get everything in the split again? I was certain _she_ married into your _father's_ wealth, not the other way around."

"Yeah, she did, she's devious as a fox and we'll talk about it later, but right _now,_ what are we gonna do about this thing?"

"The fact that you like cola and I prefer lemon-lime?"

"Yes!"

"Why don't we ignore it?" Chase blandly suggested.

Jack blinked. "…ignore it?"

"I certainly don't care one way or the other what you like to drink," said the overlord. "Certainly, you can overlook what I like to drink."

Jack frowned, considering it. "Well…I dunno…_maybe_ it could work…so long as you don't try to push that clear, uncaffeinated crap on me."

"It's a deal, so long as you don't do the same to me with that artificial, chemical ridden liquid you enjoy."

Jack summarily disappeared into the kitchen, returning with one of each of the aforementioned drinks in his hands. Handing the lemon-lime off to Chase, he popped open the top of his and took a swig.

"If we can overcome this difference," he announced boldly, "we can overcome anything!"

Chase merely rolled his eyes and sipped his own beverage, even as he knew the statement to be true aside from the exaggeration.

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

**A/N: THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS. Here is a status-update on this project, listing each segment by its Collection name (all of which can be found on good ol' Wiki, if you're interested):**

**STANDARD - FINISHED! :D  
**

**SILVER SWIRLS - To be written.**

**MAGIC SCENT - To be written.**

**GEM TONES - Excluded: nearly all colors touched on in Gems of Chack.**

**CHANGEABLES - Excluded: too specific.**

**COLOR MIX-UP - To be written.**

**PEARL BRITE - Excluded: too difficult to write for colors that all include the word 'pearl.'**

**CRAYONS WITH GLITTER - Excluded: too specific.**

**METALLIC FX - To be written.**

**SILLY SCENTS - To be written.**

**HEADS 'N TAILS - To be written.**

**TRUE TO LIFE - To be written.**

**EXTREME TWISTABLES - To be written.**

**If any artists out there feel like drawing Teal Blue, you have my blessing. **

**For Tumbleweed, Jack is cosplaying as Django of the Dead, also voiced by Danny Cooksey: look him up. ;P**

**Unmellow Yellow is dedicated to Silvarbelle, who badly wanted Deadpool's boots (red, unlike Jack's version of black and yellow) used in something. :)**

**For Yellow, in Time After Time, Chase's stomach might well have been being painted yellow with actual paint. I, however, find it far more kinky for it to have been honey, so it was. XD**

**That's all I have to say about individual prompts. As for the whole, the Standard Collection is finally finished! :D**

**Unfortunately, with it ends my summer: I've officially gone back to school. XP**

**Hopefully, this won't interfere too badly with this project and my writing in general, but schoolwork does have to come first, so if it takes me awhile to update this, keep that in mind and be understanding of whatever lapses may happen. **

**Thanks for reading the latest installment, everybody, I hope you liked it! :D**


	7. SS: A to M

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Aztec Gold-**_

"Spicer," Chase firmly began, "I need you to—"

"Quiet your noise-hole!" Jack barked in response. "I'm busy!"

Chase immediately scowled. "_Excuse_ me, consort?" he rumbled in a low, menacing growl. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but…did you truly say something so _insolent_ to your lord and master?"

"Sorry," Jack shrugged. "Quiet your noise-hole _please,_ lord and master. I'm busy."

A gloved hand came up to scrub at Chase's face, barely reining in the urge to smack the youth upside the head. "What, dare I ask, are you busy with?"

Jack gestured to the television he had been watching intently. "Mysterious Cities of Gold," he offered in explanation. "I'm inspiring myself."

Chase watched the screen, lit up with bright colors as an adventure story was told, having clear South American influences. After a moment of looking, he turned his attention to Jack and the little notebook he had gone back to sketching in, noting a myriad of designs for weapons, machines, and even an ornithopter. He correctly judged that they were solar-powered, like the ones featured in the animated series.

Chase made a noise of assent: solar-powered machines, ones that would not further pollute the already-contaminated planet were directly beneficial to his interests. With less pollution in the world, dragons might actually return to the mortal plane they had once fled from, ensuring that his future supply Lao Máng Lóng would not be quite as dicey.

Jack was being a good little minion and acting according to his masters needs, something Chase found he could not fault.

"Carry on," he allowed of Jack, turning on his heel to leave. "Know that if you ever speak to me so rudely again, however, that I shall have to hurt you."

Jack merely grunted in response, absorbing himself in the adventures of Esteban and company.

_**Burnished Brown-**_

Jack propped his chin in his hand and watched with a bored expression. "Since when does Chase put you on armor duty?" he asked. "I thought he only makes noobs do that."

Diol rolled his eyes as best as he could, continuing to polish the metal chest-plate before him. The task would be easier if he had human hands instead of paws, but…

_You remember when you and Master had that argument last week?_ he prompted.

"How could I forget?" Jack wondered. "I went to stay with mom for three days before he apologized."

_Well,_ said Diol, _I took your side on that one. I convinced him to apologize to you instead of waiting around for **you** to apologize to **him.**_

"He _was_ wrong," the goth nodded. "I didn't even _look_ at that chick, and then she grabs my ass and all of a sudden, I'm a cheater?"

Diol half-shrugged. _You know how he gets when he considers something his. It was a knee-jerk reaction._

"He was being goofy," Jack declared. "I'm crazy about him, he knows that. Back to why you're doing grunt work?"

_Long story short, I took sides against him and I'm being punished for it,_ the jaguar grumbled.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Why would he _punish_ you?" he asked. "You got him to pull his head out of his ass and say he was sorry. That kicked off the best make-up sex we've had in _at least_ a year. He should be thanking you, if anything!"

_It's not the reality of the matter that's important, unfortunately,_ Diol informed. _It's the principle: I sided against my Master, I get punished._

Jack shrugged, returning to idle watching. "Bummer," he offered sympathetically.

"'Bummer' though it may be," Chase abruptly cut in, "I expect your task to be completed and completed well, Diol."

Diol continued polishing. _Of course, Master,_ he agreed.

Chase briefly inspected his armor. "I expect you to leave no claw-marks, either. I want that bronze to shine."

Diol paused. _…bronze?_ He tilted his head in a dog-like fashion. _I thought that was brown…_

Jack covered his mouth, holding in the obnoxious laugh that tried to escape. "Aw, man," he sniggered, "armor duty with paws and claws _and_ he's still colorblind? _Mean,_ Chase!"

"_Evil,_ Jack," the warlord corrected with a smirk. "He can handle it for a few more days. Now, if you're as 'crazy about me' as you claim to be, I'm sure you wouldn't mind coming along to pay our respects to that vile female's widower."

Jack grinned. "Sounds good to me," he promised. He spared a glance to the jaguar at work. "Sorry, dude, you're on your own!"

_You say that as if you had been so helpful prior to this,_ Diol playfully sneered.

At this, Jack merely laughed and took the arm Chase offered to him and they were off to harass a late slutty woman's husband.

_**Cerulean Frost-**_

"Jesus Christ, are you serious?"

Chase said nothing whatsoever and dutifully avoided eye-contact.

Jack gave a long-suffering sigh and knelt on the mattress. "C'mere," he ordered. "Sit."

Chase did so, his back to his consort.

Jack began to inspect his master's hair. "What the _hell?_" he demanded, fingering the stiff, icy locks. "What'd you even _do?_ This is…No, seriously, what'd you _do?_"

"There was a Showdown at the South Pole," Chase said. "Omi and I fought and—"

"Oh, _Omi_ again!" Jack exclaimed, cutting in. "It's always Omi, isn't it? That cheeseball is _such_ a good influence on you!"

Chase frowned. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Well, this week, you're apparently having a frozen pool party with him and wrecking your gorgeous evil mane. Next week, you'll probably be feeding the hungry and helping the poor!"

"That's ridiculous!" Chase snapped. "His element is water: I only got wet because we were _fighting._ There was no camaraderie of any kind!"

Jack scoffed, running his fingers through Chase's hair and separating the frozen strands; bending a lock every so often so it would crackle and the frost would become easier to remove. "You say that now," he informed, "but good is a slippery slope and that kid is a paragon of all that is right with the world—massive ego aside. I don't like you hanging out with him so much. You need more evil friends."

Chase scowled. "What in all the _hells_ are you talking about, Spicer?"

"I don't know!" Jack admitted, reaching for a fine-toothed comb to sort out the icy snafu that his overlord's hair had become. "But you're a mess: what did you do before I came along to be your personal hairdresser/apprentice/bed-slave?"

"…I can't remember," Chase shrugged.

Jack sighed. "You're lucky you're cute," he said. "Otherwise, there's no _way_ I'd put up with your shenanigans."

"You said you loved me," Chase pointedly reminded.

At this, Jack smiled and leaned forward to kiss his master on the cheek. "That, too," he agreed. "Now, hot shower to melt the rest of that ice; shampoo and conditioner twice, while you're at it. I'll be in there to help you blow-dry it right when you're done."

Chase stood and glanced at Jack. "Is that the only blowing that will be going on?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "No," he said, "but there better be some kind of reciprocation going on, you big evil dork, or I'm gonna be pissed!"

Chase merely smirked and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Jack to sigh again.

"I am _so_ whipped."

_**Cinnamon Satin-**_

It _was_ a perfectly routine Showdown.

The monks had arrived mere seconds after Chase, prepared with their usual declarations of good being good and bad being bad, and so they would clearly win. Chase had strategically retorted with enigmatic comments, designed to make them doubt themselves so they would falter in the upcoming battle. It was all very standard procedure as the actual Showdown got started.

And then, Jack Spicer flew in, twenty minutes late.

Ordinarily, Chase would have paid him no mind. Even as the goth stood on the sidelines, exuberantly cheered his idol's name, and flailed like an epileptic ragdoll, as he always did, Spicer never encroached very far on Chase's awareness in matters such as these.

Today, this was different; _Spicer_ was different.

Even as Chase fended off Pedrosa's attacks and countered with several brilliant moves of his own, a tiny facet of his attention was completely locked on Jack, trying to figure out what was wrong about him.

It turned out to be _several_ somethings.

The first change to come to the warlord's attention was Jack's rumpled appearance. His vibrant red hair was scruffy and ungelled, unusual in and of itself were it not also accompanied by the lack of the eyeliner hook that had long since become a trademark. Spicer's clothing, too, seemed haphazardly thrown on: boots unbuckled, belt a notch looser than it ought to have been, shirt on backwards, and his beloved trench coat unzipped and hanging off his shoulders.

As if this weren't enough, there was something _physically_ wrong with Jack, as well. By the bags under his eyes and the slouch of his body, he was obviously exhausted; perhaps not having slept the night before. Though he still cheered and grinned whenever Chase got in a good hit, his motions were stilted and forced, always accompanied by a wince that disrupted each smile.

Though Chase had determined all of these things in only a few short seconds, none of them seemed to be the overarching wrong about Spicer today. Those things _were_ wrong, certainly, but there was something else; something skittering just outside Chase's conscious awareness whenever he tried to grasp for it. It was irritating, as it was distracting him from the Showdown at hand and it simply would not do to be beaten by a Xiaolin brat because he was _distracted._

Really, why Jack would choose today of all days to wear cologne was—…

And that was about when everything came together for Chase.

Abruptly angry, the warlord _snarled_ and batted Raimundo aside; out of their 'arena.' The Showdown, and the Wu, would automatically go to Chase.

Chase hardly seemed concerned with this, for he ignored the Shen Gong Wu that was now rightfully his and came face-to-face with Jack.

"Who is he?" he growled.

Jack blinked at him. "Who's who?" he had the gall to ask.

"Do not play games with me, Spicer," Chase pressed. "Your lover: who is he?"

Red eyes went wide, clearly surprised. "Lover?" Jack squeaked. "I don't have a—"

"You don't wear cologne," Chase cut in, "and yet, you smell of cinnamon. You obviously haven't slept, you're _limping,_ and by the look of you, you just rolled out of bed with someone." Chase narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Who _is_ he, Jack?" he demanded to know.

There was a long, tense silence wherein the two of them just stared at each other.

And then, Jack did the unthinkable: he _laughed._

Chase growled. "Spicer," he hissed, "I am in _no_ mood for—"

"No, no," Jack chuckled, "you're…it's…oh, man, I guess it would look like that!"

Chase arched an eyebrow, frowning as he waited for Jack to get his giggles under control.

"I was up late working on a project," Jack eventually explained. "I only got to sleep an hour ago when my Wu alarm went off and I had to get dressed in a hurry." He paused to gesture at his own disheveled state. "I actually tripped down a few stairs trying to get my pants on and twisted my ankle a little, hence the limp."

Chase glared at Jack. "And the cinnamon?"

Jack grinned. "I'm trying out a new detergent for my sheets—they're satin, in case you wanted to know."

The warlord put on his very best 'offended' face. "And _why_ would I want to know?" he wondered haughtily.

At this, Jack smirked. "You tell me," he invited. "You were the one acting all pissed off when you thought I was getting some."

Chase blinked, startled by the accusation. He stood quite still even as Jack stepped away from him and activated his helipack.

"For the record," said Jack, "the position of 'lover' is open!" And with a sly, little wink to Chase, he was off into the sky on his way back home.

Both Chase and the largely forgotten monks continued to stare after him for several long, confused moments.

So much for a perfectly routine Showdown.

_**Cosmic Cobalt-**_

"So…that's Neptune."

"Gorgeous, isn't it?"

Chase nodded, content to watch the big blue ball still well away from their humble spacecraft.

"Neptune's always been my favorite," Jack admitted.

"Really?" There was a hint of true surprise in Chase's voice. "I'd have sworn blind it would be Uranus or Pluto."

"Oh, don't get me wrong," said Jack, "I like your anus just fine and I do think Pluto got a bum rap, but Neptune's just _beautiful._"

Chase tilted his head at the planet. "Is it possible to land on it?"

Jack frowned. "Oh, jeez…I don't know," he shrugged. "Probably. Eventually. I mean, there's all kinds of crazy storms…and the climate, the atmosphere…it'd take awhile to make an actual landing possible, much less one we could actually survive."

"Even for you?" Chase wondered.

"Even for me," Jack echoed, "and I know that sounds crazy what with how awesome I am, but it's true."

Chase laughed and pulled his consort close, nuzzling at his collarbone. "Perhaps on our next anniversary, then," he allowed.

"In another hundred years?" Jack smirked. "Yeah, I can probably swing that. We'll have a picnic and play target practice with any Neptunians we might find."

"I'll practice my sharpshooting," Chase agreed, pouring champagne for the both of them. Passing a glass to Jack, he raised his own in a toast. "To the universe," he declared. "It shall one day be ours to rule."

"God have mercy on it," Jack added.

There was a soft clink of glasses and the Heylin men drank to their eventual conquest.

_**Glossy Grape-**_

Chase frowned. "You are not serious," he said.

Jack looked down at his worktable, where a cluster of grapes sat almost innocently, save for the soft ticking and the blinking red light from within it.

"I guess it wouldn't help to tell you there's an orange in there, too," said the goth.

Chase covered his eyes and groaned, immediately turning on his heel and exiting the lab.

Jack stared after him briefly before returning to his work.

_**Granite Gray-**_

"Well?" Jack prompted, grinning eagerly. "What do you think?"

Chase folded his arms over his chest, considering the sight before him. "I _still_ don't understand why you felt this necessary, Spicer," he admitted.

They stood in a cemetery of cemeteries, the sort that all of the richest and most famous people were quite literally dying to be admitted to. The soil beneath their feet was soft and rich, perfect for the lush fields of grass that grew there and the digging that had to go on. Save for the tombstones, the scenery was positively idyllic and a wonderful spot for a picnic.

"Chalk it up to being eccentric," Jack said with an easy shrug. "It's been what…eighty years?"

"Eighty-seven," Chase corrected.

Jack nodded. "Eighty-seven years since we met; I was twelve, then. It's about time I got one of these, don't you think?"

Chase inspected the tall, extravagant headstone Jack had commissioned. It was a sturdy structure, looking positively elegant in the midday light with its glossy granite surface shining almost like polished silver. Chase could not imagine a more fitting rock to mark his consort's burial than the dark gray stone flecked with black and white, even though there was no corpse beneath it.

'Here Lies Jack Spicer,' it proclaimed in gothic-styled letters that gleamed with hematite gilding. 'Loving Consort, Brilliant Inventor, and All Around Awesome, 1991 – 2090, "Damn, Almost 100." '

"It looks nice," Chase conceded, "but _your_ eccentricity hardly explains the other one."

Chase was, of course, referring to the second tombstone just beside Jack's, even taller and more extravagant. This one was of black granite, so dark and polished so well that even a single fingerprint on its lustrous surface would be immediately apparent.

It was so beautiful and intimidating, however, that no one would dare come close enough to leave such a print.

The engraving upon this grave marker, again without an actual grave to mark, was done in gold leaf and shone brilliantly as it declared in a elegant font, 'Here Lies Chase Young, Ultimate Warlord, Unspeakable Beauty, and Heylin Badass, 3132 – 4788, "There Is No One Phrase Grand Enough to Describe Me."'

"What's wrong with it?" Jack wondered. "I got the dates right, didn't I?"

Chase shook his head. "The dates are fine. By my count, the current year _is_ 4788 and 3132 is when I was born."

"The quote?" Jack tried. "You _did_ say that when I asked you for a quote."

"It's more the fact that I have a headstone at all," Chase said. "If this is _your_ eccentricity, why am I dragged into it?"

Jack shrugged. "I dunno," he admitted, "it seemed like it'd be fun. Besides, how am I supposed to be 'dead' if you're not 'dead,' too?"

Chase laughed. "Fair enough. And I suppose you couldn't have picked a nicer spot for it."

"About that," said Jack, "I was thinking we could hang out here every once in awhile. Y'know, enjoy the scenery, offend some mourners, scare some gravediggers, that kind of thing."

Chase grinned. "And what _else_ would be the point of having our own graves if we weren't allowed to visit them every once in awhile?"

"Sweet!" Jack exclaimed. "Now, all we need to do is circulate some spooky rumors about the headstones, make up a haunting on a specific date or something, and we're in business!"

Again, Chase laughed and ruffled his consort's hair, happy to admire the gleaming monuments to their 'sheer awesomeness.'

_**Green Sheen-**_

"It actually doesn't look so bad."

Chase growled.

"No, really," Jack insisted, "it's kind of a cute look."

A snarl.

"I mean, the cut's a little too straight to work _perfectly_ with the rest of it, but I could probably fix it up a little. I'd have to make it a little more jagged to match your style, so it'd have to get even shorter, but—"

Chase made an absolutely hideous noise that could barely be called human.

Startled by it, Jack took a step backwards; away from his master. Not necessarily out of Chase's striking range, but enough that he could run if need be.

It turned out he didn't have to as Chase abruptly deflated entirely and flopped onto the bed with a moan that almost sounded pained.

Jack grimaced at the sight and parked his own rear end on the mattress, reaching out a hand to rub Chase's back. His palm met none of the usual silky softness he felt upon doing this, instead gliding over cloth and armor.

"It's alright," he said gently. "There's worse things than a bob. Like, uh…a mullet…or a mohawk…or—"

"None of those were even a remote possibility," Chase said, partially muffled by the pillow his face was buried in. "Don't bother trying to cheer me up."

"Awww, don't be like that," Jack frowned. "Isn't there some kind of spell to…I dunno, grow it out again?"

"It would take _days…_" came the morose moan from the pillow.

Jack, however, smiled. "So, we can do that," he said, "and while we wait for it to grow back, I can cut it a little wilder so it's less ruler-straight, and once you look better, we can go whoop some ass."

Chase curled up on the bed and shut his eyes in irritation: strands of hair were falling over his face, but they were too short to secure behind his ear. "No," he said to his consort's proposal. "I don't want…no. Just…no."

Jack's smile faded immediately. Reminded very much of the story of Samson, he was beginning to get the feeling that his vain master put quite a bit more pride in his hair than he'd thought; at least enough to undermine his desire to enact vengeance, which was usually _very_ strong. That the forced shortening of his hair had the warlord _this_ upset was very telling.

Jack sighed and stood, a determined expression on his face. Almost as an afterthought, he reached over and ran his fingers through Chase's hair, admiring the green luster of it in the light. His resolve to what he was about to do was only strengthened by the reminder of the enacted travesty; the mere seconds it took to get his fingers from scalp to ends.

"I'll be back later," he said coolly. "Let Diol know I'm not making dinner tonight."

Chase said nothing in response, only pondered how he could _possibly_ show his face outside his palace looking like he did.

Hours later, just as the sun had begun to set, the door to the bedroom slammed open. Chase looked up, startled by the sight of Jack in the doorway bruised and ruffled and looking as if he'd gone ten rounds with the Cyclops.

"What happened to you?" he demanded.

Jack was silent as he approached the bed and Chase frowned suspiciously until something was unceremoniously thrown onto the mattress.

Upon closer inspection, it appeared that Jack had brought home a plastic baggie of brown hair and a photograph of an indignant Raimundo Pedrosa, that foolish prankster with that damnable blade, but also with a bald streak right through the middle of his scalp.

"What—" Chase started to ask, only to be cut off.

"_Nobody_ fucks with my Chase," Jack vehemently declared, kissing his master hard on the lips.

_**Lilac Luster-**_

"Gay," Jack declared.

Chase frowned. "I hardly see how the Syringan Dagger could classify as homosexual," he said.

"Not _that_ kind of gay," Jack amended. "Fruity-gay. As in, that is very, very, _very_ fruity."

In the warlord's hand was a small, jagged knife that gleamed purple in the light. Contrary to expectations, however, it was absolutely harmless to an enemy or even an ally. The pale violet blade, imbued with Xiaolin magicks, was completely incapable of cutting anything, save for one exception.

"I mean," Jack continued, "that whole, 'you only hurt the one you love' thing? How cheesy is that?"

Chase held the dagger before him, casually inspecting it. "It was meant to be used as a training weapon for Xiaolin initiates," he explained. "It provided monks-in-training with a way to practice their skills using a weapon without seriously injuring the innocent."

"Then, why can't the dumb thing cut people you hate?" Jack demanded to know. "Anybody a monk _hates_ has probably done something to deserve getting cut a little, right?"

"Perhaps," Chase conceded, "but it has always been against the Xiaolin code to fight in anger. The Syringan Dagger, when used as a weapon, makes it completely impossible for a monk to do so."

"Then why the love thing?" the youth wondered. "Do the monks encourage the stabbing of loved ones?"

"No," said Chase, "but they strongly _dis_courage the loving of fellow monks. The Dagger has the added bonus of alerting elders to any sort of inappropriate relations between initiates. If a monk-in-training was ever pierced by it, the elders were aware of the fact that there was a bit more going on between their pupils than brotherly affection."

Jack frowned. "So, it only reacts to romantic love?"

Chase nodded.

"Gay," Jack declared again. "Why the hell did you bother to win that thing, anyway?"

Chase reached out and caught his consort's hand. "Because you've always been so damnably insecure," he replied, pressing the lilac blade against the tip of one long, white finger.

"Ow!" Jack yelped, yanking his hand away and shoving his finger in his mouth. "Wha' oo do dat for?"

The dragonlord rolled his eyes. "Figure it out," he ordered, already walking away into the maze-like halls of his palace.

It took Jack a minute to realize, through the pain of his finger and the taste of blood on his tongue, precisely what he was meant to get out of this.

Since becoming Chase's consort two years ago, Jack had always been quite vocal about his feelings for his master. For the most part, Chase seemed unbothered by them, but never once had he said those three little words in return. It _was_ a source of insecurity for the goth, and he had often mused, sometimes silently, others aloud, exactly what he was to Chase. He had never before gotten an answer.

Removing the finger from his mouth, Jack stared at it, watching bright blood well up to fill the thin and shallow slice across the pad of his index finger. The cut made by a fruity dagger that refused to injure any but a romantically loved one, wielded by his lord and master, Chase Young.

Jack had his answer.

"Chase," he cried, stumbling hurriedly after him, "wait up!"

_**Misty Moss-**_

Chase was beginning to get irritated.

"Chase," his consort whined, "I wanna go home…"

Not because Jack was clinging _very_ tightly to his arm. He rather liked Spicer's physically affectionate nature and thought it was much easier to let Jack cling to keep him near than to put him on a leash, though that _did_ arouse a few interesting thoughts.

"Seriously, Chase," the goth continued, "we don't _really_ need this Wu, right? We can just call it a day right now."

It wasn't because Jack was complaining, either. No, the warlord was incredibly used to Jack's tendency to complain about anything and everything the moment he decided it offended his sensibilities. So, that wasn't the irritating thing, either.

"_Chase,_" Jack all but whimpered, "seriously, can't we just go?"

What was irritating, Chase thought resolutely, was that one of _his_ underlings, quite possibly his most valued and esteemed underlings, sounded _frightened._ Frightened! With _Chase Young_ by his side!

Chase stopped and glared at Jack. "_What_ is your malfunction, Spicer?" he demanded to know.

Startled, Jack reared back. "Malfunction? I don't have a malfunction! I just…think I left the oven on at home."

"You weren't baking when we left."

Jack blinked. "Did I say oven? I meant the neurotomic protocore for my dimensional portal. That thing."

"Jack—" Chase began, only to be cut off.

"It wasn't that either? Okay, then, it was my laptop. I was in the middle of some very complicated updates that I totally forgot about."

"Spicer—" Chase tried again.

"I have to get back to my knitting needles! Winter's coming, y'know!"

"_Jack,_" Chase snarled, and Jack was silent. "_What_ is wrong with you?"

Jack sighed and bit his lip. "The truth?"

"No, an elaborate lie," Chase said, rolling his eyes. "Yes, the truth."

"Forests creep me out."

"…" Chase stared. "Tell me you're joking."

"Shut up!" Jack exclaimed defensively. "They're…eerie! Especially ones like these!"

Chase glanced around them briefly as his consort did so, observing the densely wooded area they had been meandering through. The thicket of trees was, in some places, so thick that sunlight could not penetrate to the underbrush and the rays that managed to break through were thoroughly dampened by an almost ethereal mist.

Chase hardly saw the problem. The area was nice and secluded with a dark air of mystery to it. Had he been one to prefer 'homey' over 'palatial,' he might've seen fit to build a cabin out here somewhere.

Jack, as the youth went on to explain, was not of the same mindset. "This is like one of those places you see on TV in murder mysteries and crime dramas," he said, looking distinctly uneasy. "I just…can't shake the feeling there's a serial killer lurking just outside my awareness, ready to sneak up and stab me to death and dump my body in some nasty, mossy ditch."

Chase sighed. "Spicer...Jack," he said. "You're far too paranoid for your own good. What serial killer in his right mind would attempt to make you into his victim with _me_ around?"

Jack thought about it. "A stupid one?"

"And what kind of serial killer, regardless of intelligence, would be able to overpower me?"

"None?"

Chase caught Jack by the hand and resumed the search for the newest Shen Gong Wu. If his pace was any faster than before, it was certainly out of a desire to make up for lost time rather than to shorten the time spent in the forest that unnerved his lover. "You have nothing to worry about," he assured. "There is nothing out here I cannot handle. Nothing mortal poses even a _fraction_ of a threat to me."

Jack followed his master, silent for awhile, but at least no longer quite as anxious as before. Eventually, he replied, "Yeah, I guess so. So long as we don't venture into Slender Man territory, we should be alright."

"Into _what_ territory?"

Jack's lips quirked into a grin. "Never mind," he said, a note of amusement in his voice. "Let's just find the Wu and get out of here before the monks beat us to it."

Chase nodded in agreement and the two of them continued their quest.

_**Mystic Maroon-**_

"You're really making me do this," Chase mused as he was dragged into the dark, raggedy tent that absolutely reeked of incense. "You're making me do this, and I'm _allowing_ it."

"I can be very persuasive," Jack agreed with a grin. "Besides, what have we got to lose getting our palms read or something?"

"Dignity?" the overlord guessed. For this, he received a gentle whap to his forearm.

"Stop it," his consort ordered, though his mood seemed no dampened from before. "We're at a frickin' carnival: what's the point if not to completely humiliate ourselves from our usual standards of grace and elegance?"

"_My_ usual grace and elegance," Chase corrected. "This place about your speed, I'd wager."

Thankfully, Jack found the barb anything but offensive and laughed. "Screw you," he chuckled good-naturedly. "You're such a prick, and on our first date in weeks!"

"And I have been one for hundreds of years," Chase declared proudly. "I can't simply turn it _off,_ now can I?"

Venturing deeper into the supposed fortuneteller's tent, Jack smiled back at his lover. "Can't say I'd like you so much if you were anything but," he surmised. "Now, where the crap is this—"

Chase was less surprised and more amused as someone burst forth from the shadows of the dimly lit area, startling a scream out of his consort. He heroically resisted the urge to outright laugh as Jack chose to seek safety in his master's arms, bridal style.

"Welcome, travelers," boomed a rotund little man in an impressively deep voice, adorned in robes of red and black. "You come seeking your destiny!"

"I come seeking a pacemaker," Jack snapped, glaring something fierce. "Jesus _fuck,_ do you scare _all_ your paying customers like that?"

The stout fortuneteller watched with dark eyes as Chase set Jack down, the youth immediately brushing himself off in a show of indignance. "I am a mystic," he proclaimed, "a medium between our world and that of the spirits. If I have adopted some of their…ethereal qualities, it is hardly my own fault."

"Spirits, huh?" Jack folded his arms over his chest, declaring, "I'm not surprised you talk to ghosts a lot. They're probably the pissed off ghosts of all the people you scared to death, creepy bastard."

The mystic frowned. "I was under the impression that the two of you wished to have your fortunes told," he said, "not that you wish to verbally abuse me."

Chase snorted. To Jack, he said, "His crystal ball must not have foreseen your foul mouth, Spicer."

"On the contrary!" the little man exclaimed. "My ball sees all!"

Jack tsked. "He's only got one? Maybe that's why he overcompensates with all the robes and incense and sneaking up on people."

The fortuneteller went red, out of frustration or embarrassment, and Chase laughed.

"And your tongue," he added. "He must not have seen that dreadfully sharp tongue of yours, either."

"Now, see here—" the mystic tried to speak.

"Not _so_ sharp," Jack shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "If it were really that sharp, _you_ might only have one ball, too."

"If you haven't come here to glimpse your future," the small man growled, "then kindly—"

"I would sooner sacrifice _both_ than face a future without your tongue," Chase replied.

"Awww," Jack smiled, "you say the sweetest things; y'know, for a big, evil monster."

"_Listen—_"

"No, _you_ listen, shorty," Jack snapped. "We're having a moment. GTFO, why don't you?"

"This is _my_ tent!" the mystic yelped. "_You_ should get out!"

"Well, maybe we will!" Jack shot back, and Chase watched his consort snatch up his arm and begin dragging him out with a smirk on his face.

"Maybe you should!" the fortuneteller agreed. "Before I curse the both of you into oblivion!"

"Ooh, I'm so scared," said Jack, rolling his eyes. "Have fun with your mumbo-jumbo and your below minimum wage, dude!"

Chase prudently waited until they had exited the tent before turning to Jack. "I find it amusing that _you're_ the one who wished to see that man, and yet, you just dragged the both of us out in a huff."

Whatever 'huff' Jack had been experiencing had already passed out of the mercurial young man's awareness. "Fuck him," he decided casually. "He was a fake, anyway." He paused and turned to look at his master. "…right?"

"Oh, most certainly," Chase agreed. "Had he truly had 'the gift,' he'd never have been so easily irritated. True seers are so blasé about everything: they've seen it all coming, after all."

"Bet they're massively boring to be around," Jack deduced.

"Certainly," the dragonlord confirmed, "but do you know what _isn't_ boring?"

"What?"

"Corndogs and raunchy sex in a carnival bathroom."

"…I dunno," Jack frowned. "I don't want to eat corndogs in one of those nasty bathrooms…"

"Not at the same time," Chase assured. "Corndogs and _then_ the raunchy sex."

Jack grinned. "Now _that,_ I could do," he said brightly.

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

**A/N: THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS. Here is a status-update on this project, listing each segment by its Collection name (all of which can be found on good ol' Wiki, if you're interested):**

**STANDARD - FINISHED! **

**SILVER SWIRLS - FINISHED! **

**MAGIC SCENT - To be written.**

**GEM TONES - Excluded: nearly all colors touched on in Gems of Chack.**

**CHANGEABLES - Excluded: too specific.**

**COLOR MIX-UP - To be written.**

**PEARL BRITE - Excluded: too difficult to write for colors that all include the word 'pearl.'**

**CRAYONS WITH GLITTER - Excluded: too specific.**

**METALLIC FX - To be written.**

**SILLY SCENTS - To be written.**

**HEADS 'N TAILS - To be written.**

**TRUE TO LIFE - To be written.**

**EXTREME TWISTABLES - To be written.**

**Welcome to the Silver Swirls collection, everyone! I hope you enjoy your stay! XD**

**Anywho, I had meant to post all of this together. Unfortunately, it seems that the whole thing is too long to be posted as one continuous deviation, so I had to split it up into two parts. Either way, it doesn't much matter because the whole thing is technically completed. :D**

**_Aztec Gold-_ This one's for Silvarbelle, who saw the color and demanded an homage to the cartoon.**

**_Burnished Brown-_ Poor Diol. XD**

**_Cerulean Frost-_ Really, what _would_ Chase do without Jack?**

**_Cinnamon Satin-_ This one's pre-Chack instead of post/established-Chack like most of these have been. While it's fun to write about them already as a couple, it's always nice to see the beginnings of it every once in awhile, too. ;P**

**_Cosmic Cobalt-_ No comment.**

**_Glossy Grape-_ HELLO, RECURRING CRAYOLA JOKE! XD**

**_Granite Gray-_ Because if I were immortal, I would totally do this.**

**_Green Sheen-_ Poor Chase. It's a good thing he's got Jack around to avenge him. :)**

**_Lilac Luster-_ 'Syringan' is a play on the genus of lilacs, 'Syringa.'**

**_Misty Moss-_ ...No comment. XD**

**_Mystic Maroon-_ Can you tell I like it when Chase and Jack are snarky? ;P**

**Anywho, that's Part One of this sucker; Part Two should be up momentarily, and I hope you enjoyed reading! :D**


	8. SS: P to W

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Pearly Purple-**_

For a long time, Chase refused to acknowledge his consort.

He could feel the sharp intensity of the eyes upon him, certainly. There was no other in the world capable of staring at him so intently, and that was definitely what Jack was doing. However, he was a lord and as such, it was not on him to request an audience with others; it was on _others_ to request an audience with _him._

So, he waited, occupying himself with a random novel he'd decided to read. It wouldn't be long before Jack said something.

But, as usual, it seemed that Spicer was entirely focused on proving his master wrong, and both the silence and the staring were kept up for a good ten minutes.

Chase eventually sighed and shut his book in a gesture of defeat. "_What,_ Jack?"

"She's lying," Jack said very firmly.

Chase laid the book aside. "Who is lying?"

"Wuya," Jack replied as if it ought to be obvious. "She's lying…right? Tell me she's lying."

"I get the feeling that I'm very much out of the loop on something," the dragonlord deduced. "_What,_ precisely, is Wuya lying about?"

Jack blinked. "You don't know?"

"No."

"I thought you knew everything!" Jack exclaimed.

Chase smirked. "I'm flattered, but no, I don't know everything. Just most things."

Jack smiled briefly, only to stop and force a neutral expression onto his face. Most definitely a defense mechanism, Chase decided, but for what?

"Wuya says you're getting married," the goth stated blankly, and Chase frowned.

"Married?" he echoed, watching his consort nod. "To whom?"

"Her," Jack said. "She says the two of you are engaged."

Chase scoffed. "Where would she have gotten an idea as foolish as that?" At the sight of blatant relief on Jack's face, he amended, "And why would you have believed her?"

Jack had the decency to flush. "I dunno," he admitted, "she can be pretty convincing sometimes…and she's got proof…"

The warlord silently raised an eyebrow.

"Well, she's showing off this pearl necklace she's got," explained Jack. "She's telling _everybody_ that it's your engagement present to her."

"Oh, is she?"

"Yeah. It's nice. All the pearls are the same shade of purple, and I guess she made it up, but her story is that you went diving in different oceans collecting oysters for decades just to get enough matching pearls to make the necklace."

And that was simply so hilarious that Chase _had_ to laugh. "Come now, Jack," he chuckled, "even _you_ must know what a preposterous notion that is. How were you taken in by that story, even for a second?"

"I wasn't!" Jack protested. "Not _really._ I mean, I _knew_ the story was bullshit. I just wasn't…totally confident about the rest of it. So, I asked you. To make sure."

Chase was momentarily silent. "Why purple?" he wondered belatedly.

"To match the dress she supposedly has," Jack answered. "She said it was because she's too evil to wear white."

"Oh, white is the _last_ color that woman is fit to wear, but it has nothing to do with her evility."

Jack made a noise that could only be described as a 'snerk,' and Chase smiled.

"How far did you say Wuya's been spreading this marriage nonsense?" he wondered.

"Everywhere," Jack said and began counting on his fingers. "The monks know, Guan knows, Katnappé knows, I _think_ Bean knows, Tubbimura _definitely_ knows—"

Chase raised a hand to silence his consort and considered the situation. "Well," he said at length, "everyone we know is under the impression that I'm to be married."

"Pretty much," said Jack.

"It would certainly be…an embarrassing situation for Wuya for me to correct such a misunderstanding."

"_Big_ time."

Chase closed his eyes and steepled his fingers, making a noise in the back of his throat. "There's nothing for it then," he decided. "I'll have to get married."

"What?"

Chase laughed at the horrified expression on his consort's face. "Not to _her,_" he promised.

There was precisely five seconds of silence. "Me?" Jack squeaked.

"Who else?" asked Chase. "If all of our acquaintances are so set on the notion of my engagement, it would hardly be prudent of me to remain a bachelor. I'll have to marry _someone,_ and you're the obvious choice."

It occurred to Jack right then that Chase was taking this all very well. Perhaps a little _too_ well. Jack frowned suspiciously. "…You told Wuya you'd marry her to set this whole thing up, didn't you?"

Chase only smirked in reply.

"You're a devious bastard, y'know that?"

"Is that a yes or a no, Spicer?" the warlord inquired.

"Yes," said Jack, "but I'm staying a Spicer or else you'd be out of a pet-name for me."

"Fair enough," Chase allowed, and that was that.

_**Pewter Blue-**_

Chase laid himself out fully, stretching his legs and settling himself into a comfortable position. The soil beneath him was soft enough and the day was warm. Really, it was the perfect setting for a nap, were it not for the company.

"Aren't you pissed at all?" Raimundo asked him.

Chase scoffed. "Why would I be?"

"Well," said Kimiko, "we _did_ just kind of capture you."

"And cuff you on a fence," Rai added.

Chase tugged lightly at his wrists, finding them to indeed still be handcuffed to the aforementioned fence. Interlacing his fingers and resting his head on his arms, he confirmed, "Yes, that happened."

"You ought to be madder than a rattlesnake in a pickle barrel," Clay opined.

"What my companions are getting at, Chase Young," said Omi, "is that you seem to be accepting your defeat very casually."

"Who says I've been defeated?" Chase asked. "All you've done is handcuff me."

"With iron," reminded Kimiko. "You can't move or break those cuffs, so we win."

"I beg to differ."

Rai snorted derisively. "Differ all you want, we're not the ones stuck to a fence."

Chase only rolled his eyes before closing them, yawning in a show of boredom. "Believe me or don't," he said. "But really, what is it you plan on doing now that you've 'won'?"

The monks collectively exchanged a look.

"I am, after all, the largest Heylin threat to the Xiaolin side," Chase continued. "Wuya's been reduced to a ghost again and no one will have anything to do with her. I personally disposed of Bean mere weeks ago and though I _have_ been training Spicer in the ways of evil, he's nowhere near ready to take my place—nor would I allow it, for that matter." The dragonlord paused, fixing the young monks with a calculating stare. "What will become of you if you no longer have any enemies to face? If you've _truly_ defeated me?"

His captors did not seem to have an answer to this. The four of them met each others' gazes for a few long moments, hoping someone would say something poignant.

Eventually Rai, as their leader, took it upon himself to do so. "We'll…keep fighting the good fight," he said, "against whoever we have to. We're good guys: it's what we do."

"You mean you'll fight until even the petty Heylin are gone and then go back to endless hours of meditation and chores around the temple," Chase deduced. "Well, luckily for you, I'm not out of the picture yet."

"What makes you say that?" Kimiko demanded. "You're _still_ handcuffed to that fence with _iron_ handcuffs and we're not about to let you go anytime soon!"

"I didn't assume so," Chase promised. "But I imagine my consort will."

It was then that the monks realized that Chase had been talking to buy time. They realized this largely by way of a sonic wave knocking them all to the ground.

"Fucking _monks,_" Jack was snarling as he touched down to earth, the blades of his helipack retracting as he stored some manner of sonar weapon in his coat. "Can't even take a damn bath without you jerks starting shit behind my back! Chase," he called to his master, "what the hell's going on _this_ time?"

Chase shrugged. "The Xiaolin believe to have found my weakness in iron."

Jack stared. "Iron?"

"Apparently, one of them read somewhere that iron is both binding and painful to magical beings, dragons included."

"It is," Kimiko insisted, sitting up and rubbing her head.

"I thought that was only fairies," Jack protested.

"It is," Chase agreed, jerking his hands apart. The cuffs snapped easily and he got to his feet as if nothing had happened.

"What?" Omi exclaimed. "But how?"

"My consort was quite correct, Omi," Chase replied. "Iron is only binding to fae, and only to specific breeds of them. Dragons are unaffected one way or the other. Besides which," he sneered, "those handcuffs you were using are pewter, not iron."

Rai shook his head. "Wait, wait, wait! If we had it wrong, why did you go along with it?"

"Same question," chimed Jack. "You were gone for two hours and you could've gotten free whenever you wanted! What gives?"

Chase smirked and approached his lover. "Because consort mine," he informed, "it was a test."

"A test?" Jack blinked. "What kind of test?"

"I wanted to see if you'd come for me," Chase said.

"Of course I'd come for you!" Jack exclaimed. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Chase's grin broadened. "Precisely. You passed the test." He leaned up ever so slightly to kiss his consort's cheek. "My _hero,_" he purred wickedly.

Jack blushed at that and, realizing the monks were still very much present and _watching_ them, he suggested, "L-let's go home. Y'know, finish this discussion in private, and all that."

Chase's expression was positively devilish. "Yes," he concurred, "let's."

And with that, they were gone, back to the Land of Nowhere.

Dojo, finally peeking out from beneath Clay's hat, gave his two cents. "I _told_ you guys that iron thing was a stupid idea."

_**Polished Pine-**_

"Never?" Jack was gaping at his master in complete and utter horror.

"Why on earth would I have?" Chase demanded, entirely nonplussed.

Jack shook his head. "That's crazy! You _have_ to!"

"_Have_ to?" Chase snorted. "I don't _have_ to do anything."

"No, it's too late. I've made up my mind: we're doing it now."

Chase stared at his consort. "I don't want to."

Jack glared. "We're doing it, I said."

"If we do this, one of us is going to get seriously hurt, Spicer."

"Don't worry," the goth assured, "I've done it hundreds of times before. I'm experienced."

The vaguest hint of panic entered Chase's eyes for those who knew where to look. "I don't want to," he said again. "I've never done it before. I don't—"

Jack laid a hand on his overlord's arm. "It's okay, baby," he said soothingly, "I know what I'm doing. You'll like it, I promise, and it'll be totally safe."

Chase was quiet for a moment, deliberating. Eventually, it seemed that his trust in his consort outweighed any apprehension, for he decided, "Fine. What must I do?"

"Well, strip, obviously," instructed Jack. "Underpants and a good pair of socks is all you'll need."

"Are we doing it here?" Chase wondered.

Jack shook his head. "Nah," he denied. "You've got marble floors. Marble's great for sliding, but you're a beginner, so we'll need a little more traction. Wood flooring is best so long as it's nice and polished, and I know the perfect room in the mansion to practice in."

The warlord raised an eyebrow. "And Sylvia won't mind us…floor-skating, as you call it, in her home?"

Jack laughed. "Are you kidding? She _taught_ me how to floor-skate!"

Chase sighed. "Very well. Let's get this over with."

"Great," chirped Jack, and the two of them were off on their way to pure frivolity.

_**Quick Silver-**_

"You're aware this is going to be horrendously dangerous," Chase casually pointed out.

"Well, fuck, Chase," said a mildly exasperated Jack, "it's not like we'll be swimming in the fountains."

"No," the warlord agreed, "but should any of our guests venture too close or attempt to touch them—"

"So, we warn the people we like and let the rest of them fend for themselves! _God,_ Chase, what's with the nitpicking?"

Chase blinked. "Are you alright, Jack?"

Jack looked startled by the question. "What? Yeah, I'm fine. Just… I'm fine."

Chase was not convinced. "Are you absolutely certain? I can't recall you ever snapping at me like that before. You're not acting yourself."

"Fuck you," Jack growled, "I'll act however I wanna act!" Immediately after he said it, his eyes went wide and his clapped a hand over his mouth. "Ohmigod, Chase, I'm so sorry! I _totally_ don't know why I said that…"

"I think I do." Chase settled a hand warmly on his fiancé's shoulder. "You're stressing over the wedding."

Jack sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Oh, god, yeah, I am," he agreed. "Why doesn't anybody ever tell you how much _crap_ has to go into one of these things before you find out for yourself?"

"It can't be price you're concerned about," Chase said in confidence.

Jack laughed. "Oh, hell no. Between you and mom, money is the last thing I'm worrying about."

"Then, what is it?"

"I dunno," Jack frowned, "I just…Well, _fuck,_ Chase, we're getting _married._ It's a once-in-a-lifetime thing 'cause neither of us have gotten married before and we're _damn_ well not gonna marry anybody else after this and…I just want it to be perfect."

"It will be," Chase assured. "You've done an excellent job with decorating, Sylvia's handled our short guest list, and I'm taking care of the preparations for the Heylin ritual to bind us. Everything is going to go off without a hitch, Jack. You have no need to be so on edge about it."

The young man took a deep breath and released it, allowing loads of tension to drain from his body. "Yeah," he agreed slowly, "yeah, you're right." He offered Chase a sheepish grin. "Sorry for turning into a bridezilla for a minute there; won't happen again."

"That's too bad," the dragonlord teased, "I'd have liked to have seen you in a wedding dress."

Jack snorted. "Screw off, you, I'm in charge of wardrobes, too. I could just as easily make _you_ wear the dress."

Chase shrugged, unfazed. "Something tasteful, I hope. Neither white nor lace fit with my look."

Jack laughed and Chase smirked, pleased that he had gotten his consort to well and truly loosen up.

"Now," he continued, "tell me again about these mercury fountains you're so excited to install."

His betrothed brightened even further and eagerly shared his plans.

_**Rose Dust-**_

Jack sincerely doubted he would ever forget their first morning after.

He remembered, first and foremost, waking up a strange combination of sore and disoriented and satisfied all at once. He hadn't bothered to think much of it until he was fully conscious, at which point the blind terror set in. It was a very disturbing situation, Jack reflected, for a blushing (ex-) virgin to wake up in a bed most definitely not his own and with no idea who it belonged to.

The flashes of memory that followed the momentary panic were vague even now. A hot mouth against his own, a large hand questing along his body in places he had never dreamed would be touched by another person, a _sinful_ tongue; this was the most he could call up of a night drowned in wicked debaucheries.

But the afternoon _before_ the night was clear enough, and that was what had _really_ sent the goth headlong into shock. To _this,_ Jack could place many things: a handsome face and a masculine voice, the overwhelming aura of power and superiority, coupled strangely with teasing smirks and skimming, skating touches, all leading up to the passionate blur.

It would _never_ leave Jack's mind, the very first coherent sentence he managed to put together in his head.

_I just fucked a Heylin prince._

And surely, that was true, for the evidence had lain beside him, still sleeping amidst the faint dawn sunlight trickling in through the drapery.

Jack was one hundred percent sure that his embarrassment and his self-preservation instincts would have made him snatch up what clothing he could find and make the flight of shame from the mountain stronghold had he not glanced over at the other side of the bed.

He thanked whatever deity of fate and chance he could think of that he'd done just that.

Truly, the sight of a sleeping dragonlord was one of immeasurable beauty, enough to have mesmerized Jack into a thoughtless stupor of admiration.

Chase had been lying on his stomach, as he was now, Jack mused idly. The scene of this morning was almost identical and the youth took the time to admire his master. His hair was splayed around him almost artfully, dark locks draping and curling as they would over shoulders, back, and pillow. With his cheek resting in the crook of folded arms, much of his face was hidden, but those eyes alone, so peacefully closed were enough to make Jack melt a little inside.

The contours of fine musculature in his biceps, shoulders, and back all the way down to the base of his spine were nicely outlined by the sun leaking in through the windows, causing the butter cream skin to practically gleam and glow. Now as then, Jack cursed the silken sheet that hid the rest of that body from his wandering eyes, though he still conceded that even the dusky pink color of it looked wonderful upon the everlord.

Truly, to see Chase like this was to have stumbled upon a glorious, bathing Athena and not even the threat of blindness would be enough to make Jack want to stop looking.

The albino youth smiled to himself in the calm of the early morning, so clearly recalling how a single golden eye had cracked open to lock directly on him and how Chase had said—

"You ought to take a picture, Spicer. It would last longer."

Jack blinked and glanced over to where his overlord was meant to be sleeping and sure enough, he was awake and fixing that same gaze on him as he had so many years ago.

Content that history was to repeat itself, Jack made no effort to disguise the grin in his voice as he likewise repeated, "If I had my camera, I'd take a million."

_**Rusty Red-**_

"_Damn_ you, you useless waste of an orgasm," snarled an absolutely _furious_ dragonlord; so furious, in fact, that Raimundo was wondering if it had been such a good idea to target him with the newest Shen Gong Wu.

The Chronos Magician, a gaily colored and sparkling sundial functioned similarly to the Sands of Time and facilitated the manipulation of the time-stream. Unlike its predecessor, which transported the user _through_ time, the Chronos Magician transported time at the user's _behest._ That is to say, the eyesore of a sundial was capable of aging or restoring objects and people by controlling the passage of time around them.

It had been a mistake on the Shoku leader's part to assume the Wu would work on Chase Young. The Chronos Magician could age things, yes, but Pedrosa had clearly not counted on the fact that Lao Máng Lóng consumption resulted in _eternal_ youth—no exceptions.

When the Wu had been turned on Chase and set for an otherwise debilitating seventy years, _he_ had remained young, strong, and beautiful as ever. Such a thing would've ordinarily amused the everlord, however, not infuriated him so.

_That_ part had much to do with his fine silken clothing now reduced to worn rags and to his armor, wet by Omi's attacks and now thoroughly rusted and cracking.

Raimundo, now facing a murderously angry Heylin, offered a nervous chuckle, stepping backwards _slowly…_ "Y-y'know," he stuttered out, "most people couldn't make that look good, but on you, it _works._"

Unfortunately for him, Chase was in no mood for flattery. For the crime of defiling his wardrobe and consequently, his appearance, _someone_ would be paying dearly. He merely growled in response, advancing another step.

"Wait, wait, wait," yelped Rai, "one-on-one isn't really fair to me! Lemme just get some backup and—"

"_No,_" Chase hissed at him, continuing forward. "_You_ did this, and _you_ shall face the consequences."

Pedrosa's fellow monks were _quite_ sure to remain on the sidelines during this. They, too, rightfully feared the warlord's wrath.

"Dude," Rai weakly got out, "you outmatch me. This isn't fair. Where's your honor?"

Such a comment at last made Chase pause…

…but only for a moment.

He almost immediately resumed his ominous approach with but a brief gesture to his rusty and weathered attire. "Tarnished," he replied quite smoothly, making the comparison clear.

Wide-eyed and maybe a little afraid for his life, Raimundo took another step backwards. Abruptly, he found his field of vision, in which a menacing dragonlord had lurked, replaced with blue sky and white clouds. His hands were empty of sundials and his back ached with the distinct ring of an impact.

Someone had tripped him and taken the Wu.

As he sat up to determine who, he saw it turned on Chase for the second time that day, held in white hands gloved in black.

"Chronos Magician," Jack Spicer called, and in a whirl of color and sparkle, time rearranged itself. When everything cleared, time had been rewound and Chase's armor and clothing were once more in pristine condition.

Fully expecting Jack to stand aside and invite his once-more-beautiful master to carry on with his plans for vengeance, Rai was shocked to see the goth take a very purposeful stance in front of him.

"There," said Jack quite casually, "you're cleaned up and we've got the gay sundial. Let's go home."

Chase, naturally, did not miss his consort's intentional position. "Spicer," he spoke calmly, a note of foreboding portent in his voice, "the monk has wronged me. I _will_ even the score."

"Aw, fuck him," Jack declared. "He's not worth it and you know he's not. Let's just leave before he pees his pants or something."

"Hey—!"

A sneer came to Chase's face. "Backsliding, are we, Spicer?" he mused reproachfully. "Going back to how you were _before?_ When you were nothing more than a craven weakling who considered these pathetic Xiaolin the closest thing you had to _friends?_" He 'tsk'ed. "I'm disappointed in you, Jack."

Surprisingly enough, Jack snorted, as if to dispel every notion of the former-Jack who would _never_ act so boldly to Chase Young's face. "Hardly," he said in answer to his master's accusations. "I could give a shit if you wasted this jerk right in front of me."

Considering the fact that Chase could do this easily, Raimundo was in no position to speak up for himself.

Chase, however, was always in a position to speak. "Then _why_ are you defending him?"

"I'm not," said Jack, approaching Chase and _damn,_ did he have balls to do so with the warlord already rubbed _quite_ the wrong way. In a move not even the bravest of men would attempt _or_ survive, Jack came nose-to-nose with Chase and curled an arm around his middle, using his impressive stature to look down on the other man.

Just as the watching monks were _sure_ the albino was about to get his head ripped off for such audacity, Jack's face took a turn for the seductive with bedroom eyes and a barely there quirk of the lips.

"Take care of Pedrosa later," he purred with a voice that was smoky and pure _sex._ It was more than obvious where he must have learned such a tone. "I don't care what you do later, but there's something else I want you to do now."

"Oh, really?" Chase asked calmly, entirely unswayed. "And what is that, Spicer?"

"Me," Jack replied matter-of-factly.

Here, _Chase_ snorted. "You expect me to believe you're delaying Pedrosa's comeuppance because of your libido, which can be satisfied at any time?"

Jack shook his head. "I expect you to believe that we've got the Chronos Magician and unless I heard wrong, I remember you telling me about a very interesting older-guy-fantasy that we now have every chance to fulfill."

Only the most seasoned of warriors would have caught the subtle stiffening of Chase's spine or the _slight_ shiver that followed it.

"You will pay for defying me," the warlord said at length.

"I know," Jack assured with a smirk. "I don't mind: I'm kinky."

Chase nodded. "As long as we're clear on that."

"Crystal, _master…_"

Chase took hold of his consort's wrist, the very one that held the Chronos Magician. It was nothing less than an inescapable, possessive grip.

"You are lucky this day, monk," he proclaimed to Raimundo, who still watched the scene from the ground. "I shall come for _you_ later; at my own convenience."

Before anyone could say another word, there was no longer any trace of Heylin overlords or apprentices anywhere on the battlefield and the rest of the monks at last flocked to their leader, helping him up.

"Jesus," he breathed, obviously relieved. "That was lucky as hell."

Kimiko took the liberty of brushing some dirt off of Rai's rear end. "Not _so_ lucky," she said mysteriously.

She received precisely three bewildered stares.

"What's that supposed to mean, Kim?"

"D'you know somethin' that we don't?"

"Yes, Kimiko, please fill us out!"

"In," the young lady corrected, coyly turning and saying nothing else as she ignored the repeated pleas for information.

Kimiko, a girl of her word, would never reveal the damning photograph of a Jack only a year or two in the past being slobbered on by a nameless drunk girl at a party, the very same photo that would _surely_ work a certain everlord up into quite the tantrum should a favor of some kind not be performed at an unspecified date.

That picture would be burned and the ashes disposed of this very night, and no one besides her and Jack would have to know of its existence.

Anything else would hardly be proper Xiaolin conduct.

_**Shadow Blue-**_

Jack's heart was pounding with all the force of a sledgehammer. His stomach was doing backflips and his feet felt like lead weights, not to mention the fact that holding anything would be a challenge with sweat-slippery palms.

It was just a little unbelievable that this was all actually happening. Getting _married._ Getting married to _Chase Young._ Getting married to Chase Young _right now._

Fuck on a pogo-stick, this was really for real. Jack was abruptly struck by the realization that he had no idea which he wanted to do more: run right _into_ the ceremony or _away_ from it.

The choice was made for him.

"Are you ready, Jack?" a female voice asked from beside him.

He turned and took in the sight of the seemingly young lady with blue eyes and short white hair that stood there. She wore a cheongsam of white with a black stripe pattern, indicative of her true nature.

"Bella," he all but breathed. "Yeah, no, I'm so not ready for this."

The tigress in human form shook her head. "You're ready," she said confidently. "What you're feeling is prewedding jitters. It happens to many brides-to-be."

At this, Jack scoffed. "M'not a bride," he said, swallowing a lump in his throat. "I'm the other groom."

Bella smiled at him and held her arm out in offering. Jack took it. "Ready or not," she said, "you're expected right about now."

As if to punctuate her words, the faint sound of music caught Jack's ear from outside, and his lips quirked upwards at the reminder. Chase had, of course, secured the Twelve Girls Band to play their wedding, and the lovely, dulcet tones of the erhu in _Butterfly_ were beginning to sound.

"Well, then," Jack declared firmly, "let's not keep them waiting."

The massive door to the citadel opened before them and Jack allowed Bella to lead him outside, into the pouring rain.

The sky was thoroughly darkened, with both the storm and the coming of night and it occurred to the goth not for the first time that to anyone else, these conditions would be awful for a wedding. His own knee-jerk reaction had been to say as much to Chase and to suggest this be done on another day.

The warlord had had none of it, of course. The date, he had told his husband-to-be, was far too important to reschedule. Their wedding was to take place on the last day of summer and culminate with the coming of autumn, symbolic of their union.

The entire ceremony, in fact, was based on the symbolism of Chase and Jack joining as a couple. For a warlord whose element was fire and Jack, a youth deeply connected with the element of metal, a wedding/Heylin binding ritual apparently had to bear that fact in mind.

On the verge of summer and fall, the setting sun south and west of the small congregation in the hot and dry desert of the Land of Nowhere, no other place and time could be so perfect.

The fact of the miserable weather was proclaimed by Chase to be proof of the strength of their marriage; that even the gods themselves were trying desperately to delay or stop it.

A few tarps had been put up on the gaping mountain maw that was the palace's porch and everything went ahead as scheduled.

Doing his very best to calm his racing pulse, Jack looked straight ahead halfway tuning out the music and the eyes of the guests. His gaze fell upon the obsidian altar at which Chase stood with a human-formed Diol.

_Chase…_ It took almost all the control Jack had to keep the lovestruck sigh in his head at the sight of the overlord awaiting him merely a few feet away.

Stripped of his usual armor, Chase was looking positively _gorgeous_ in red and gold silk; red for fire and luck and gold for fortune. The sight of the fine clothing reminded Jack of his own, done in a shadowy blue and silver. The blue was meant to represent the concept of immortality and silver, naturally, stood in for metal.

Again, it was more symbolism getting at the idea of fire and metal being joined as one for an eternal, prosperous future.

A palpable hush fell over the small congregation as Jack came face to face with his soon-to-be husband just before the altar. Bella, in black and white, went behind the slab of stone with Diol, in red, orange, yellow and feathers, preparing to conduct the ceremony as white tiger and vermillion bird.

Jack's heart fluttered at the easy grin Chase gave him, taking hold of his hand. If the warlord was at all bothered by the dampness of his palm, he didn't show it at all as he lifted the square, white hand and pressed his lips to Jack's knuckles.

Though he felt entirely too much like a schoolgirl doing so, Jack blushed at the gentlemanly gesture, which only made Chase's smirk broaden.

"We are gathered here today," Diol announced loudly, competing with the sound of the rain and the rumble of thunder, "to see these two gay, evil, and a little bit crazy bastards stuck with each other for the rest of their immortal lives."

A chuckle passed through the guests and the marrying couple alike.

"In spite of their flaws," Bella smoothly continued, "it is love that has brought all of us here today—"

"Whether it be love of family, love of evil, or just love of free cake."

Another laugh.

"So, without further ado, let's get this show on the road." This said, Bella reached across the black altar and guided the two men's clasped hands directly over it.

Thanks to having the ritual explained beforehand, Jack was not at all freaked out when Diol came forward with the ceremonial dagger and slipped it between their palms.

The blade was soon jerked back out with a slight twist, biting into the flesh enough to make both Jack and Chase bleed. Jack winced at the pain of it, but he only squeezed Chase's hand tighter to compensate instead of pulling away, allowing their blood to mingle. This was too crucial a part of the binding ceremony to screw up.

Looking to distract himself from the sticky and stinging sensation of his hand, Jack caught Chase's eyes and was lost immediately. Though the wicked man didn't say a word, those gorgeously gold irises spoke volumes.

_You are dear to me. I want you forever. I'm willing to forsake all others for you._

This was really happening.

Jack was practically deaf to the almost musical chanting that Bella and Diol took up just then. The words were in an ancient dialect of Chinese that had long since fallen into disuse, anyway, and the most he could pick out were the key words: fire, metal, love, lust, binding, and eternity. Everything else was jibberish.

A bowl of liquid was pushed forward upon the altar, and through the damp scent of rain and ozone in the air, Jack could smell a sharp tang of lemon and salt. There were other things in this mixture, he'd been told, but the very point of the ingredients was to be painful.

The two of them were to be joined together through blood and magicks, using the strength of their bond to overcome the pain.

Jack clenched his jaw and steeled his nerves, readying himself for the pain that would come when their wounded hands would plunge wrist-deep into the bowl of irritants. Chase, perhaps sensing this, used his other hand to stroke Jack's shoulder, reassuring him.

The spell came to a crescendo just then and Jack took the cue as Chase did, hands coming downward towards the bowl.

Jack's heart skipped a beat or two at the loud boom of thunder and the crash of lightning _terrifyingly_ close to the mountain. He wondered for a moment if Chase hadn't perhaps been right in saying the gods feared their union, as the violent weather had nearly startled him into letting go of Chase's hand at an absolutely crucial moment.

He didn't have much time to think about it, however, for Chase had made sure to keep tight hold of his consort's hand and all Jack could think about now was how _goddamn much the cut on his palm stung!_

Even at the rush of pain, the tingle of Heylin magic that rushed over the both of them was unmistakable. Jack had no doubt that the ancient rite was working perfectly, tying he and Chase together permanently. Hearts beat as one, souls in tune, 'can't have anybody else ever again,' and that sort of thing.

All too soon and not quickly enough, it was over.

A cheer rose up amongst the guests as Diol proudly announced, "They're hitched!"

Jack was immediately swarmed.

"Oh, Jackie," a tearful Sylvia exclaimed, "I'm so happy for you!"

Jack smiled. "Thanks, mom," but no sooner had he said it than he was caught in a powerful headlock and noogied.

"You're causin' me trouble, little bro," Francis proclaimed with a grin on his face. "Now, blondie over there wants _me_ to pop the question!"

Richie laughed as his boyfriend released his younger sibling. "Not right _now,_" he said, "but you'd _better_ one of these days!"

"See? See what you did?"

Jack snorted and ruffled his fingers through his hair. "Sorry," he chuckled, not meaning it in the slightest.

Hotstreak only shrugged. "Don't worry about it. Congrats on your big day, kiddo."

Jack was positively beaming right up until the sharp 'crack' of a palm meeting a cheek rang out over the sound of pouring rain.

Chase, with a bright red imprint of a palm emblazoned upon his handsome face looked entirely unperturbed. In fact, he looked positively smug as Wuya, who'd been forced to attend the wedding, stormed off, even sharing a haughty high-five with the ghostly Dashi, who was busy laughing his incorporeal ass off.

Grinning a mile wide, Jack approached his—good _god,_ this was really for real!—husband.

Seeing him, Chase shooed his deceased brother away and greeted his spouse warmly with a kiss.

There were a few wolf-whistles and a couple of 'awww's, making Jack blush again. Upon pulling away, he breathed, "So. Married."

Chase smirked. "Mmhm," he agreed. "Married."

Considering the love, joy, and disbelief on high, it was hardly surprising that Jack found his brain-to-mouth filter quite broken. Because of it, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Do we have to get rid of the mercury fountains after this?" he asked. "They look _awesome._"

Chase laughed and kissed him again. "We can do whatever you'd like," he promised. "It's _our_ mountain."

Positively giddy, he embraced his lord and master; his lover; his husband. "Honeymoon," he declared. "Now."

"You heard him," Chase said imperiously to the lingering guests. "You don't _have_ to go home, but the only other option is remaining here and listening to the two of us celebrate our nuptials for what's likely to be several days."

Needless to say, the newly married Heylin men were quickly left alone to commemorate the occasion.

_**Shiny Shamrock-**_

"Spicer."

"Mmph," Jack grunted in response from beneath the covers.

"Jack," Chase tried again. "Wake up."

"G'way," the goth practically hissed, one white hand peeking out from beneath the covers just long enough to drag a pillow over the lump of blankets where his head would be. "Early…"

Though sorely tempted to just roust his lover out of bed by force and be done with it, Chase restrained himself. After all, this whole endeavor was about _pleasing_ Jack, not pissing him off.

Instead, he let out a very put upon sigh. "Well," he said, "I suppose I'll have to enjoy this milkshake all by myself…"

The mound of blankets stiffened. "Shake?" Jack asked from beneath it, sounding infinitely more awake. "…what day is it?"

"The first of March."

With superhuman speed, the covers were thrown off and Jack was standing directly in front of the overlord, practically whimpering at what he held in his hand. It was a simple white cup, decorated with red and yellow insignias, filled to the brim with cold and creamy green.

"Oh, good sweet Christ," Jack quavered, eyes glistening with desire, "it's _beautiful…_"

"Do you want it, Spicer?"

Jack bit his lip and nodded. "More than _anything,_" he confessed.

Chase smirked. "And what will you do to get it?"

"_Anything,_" the youth repeated.

Chase's expression was positively wicked. "Would you suck me off right here and now?"

"Yes," Jack replied without hesitation.

"And would you be my slave for a week?"

"Hell yes."

"You would?" Chase considered the dairy treat he held in his hand. "Would you go and face the monks in a Showdown wearing nothing but a red thong of my choosing?"

And here, at last, Jack showed some hesitation. "It's not a _purpley_ red, is it?"

Chase laughed. "It's of no consequence," he said, holding the milkshake out to his lover. "This time, you may have it for only a blowjob."

Jack squealed in delight and took the cup, eagerly slucking down the creamy confection with sighs of, 'so minty' and 'it's been a whole _year!_'

Chase watched him enjoy it, quite looking forward to having Jack's cool mouth on him once he finished his treat. It was a small price he was asking for something that made Spicer so insanely happy, but this was only the beginning.

After all, these milkshakes were going to be sold _all_ month long…

_**Steel Teal-**_

"Should I even ask this time?" Chase inquired.

Jack, clearly startled, spun around, fumbling for a moment and half-juggling a screwdriver and the source of Chase's apparent displeasure.

In his arms, Jack held a duck. This duck was not a _true_ duck, however, for in several places, its body had been replaced with metal parts. Cybernetic legs, what looked like a brace on its wing, and a chunk of metal with a red glow where an eye ought to be.

"Umm…" Jack said slowly, clearly thinking on how to explain this. "I rebuilt him. I had the technology."

Chase scowled. "Don't," he ordered.

Jack continued anyway. "I have the capability to build the world's first bionic duck, better than he was before."

"_Don't._"

"Better, stronger, faster—"

"Play with your duck all you want, Spicer!" Chase growled, rolling his eyes. "Just leave _me_ out of it."

Jack waited until his overlord had left the room before returning his attention to the cyborg duck, who stared blankly at him with one red eye and one brown one, surrounded by metal and teal feathers respectively.

"I shall call you Steve," he decided, "and you shall be awesome."

The duck merely quacked in response.

_**Sugar Plum-**_

Jack eyed the glass dubiously for a moment. "It's not poison, is it?"

Chase scoffed, nudging him over on the sofa to make room for himself. "Why on _earth_ would I poison you?" he demanded to know. "First of all, I would be depriving myself of both a consort and a spouse were I to kill you. Second of all, since the ritual, our lifeforces are tied together: if you die, I die. And third of all, we're in the midst of our honeymoon. Any attempts at murder on my part would put quite the damper on my chances of initiating some typical honeymooning activities."

Jack grinned and brought the wine to his lips. Upon taking a sip, he snuggled up to his overlord. "Just checking," he said almost teasingly. "This is good, though."

Chase returned the smile. "Thank you, I made it myself."

Just _barely_ did Jack manage to swallow the sweet mouthful of wine before sputtering audibly. "No effing way," he eventually accused. "You did not."

The warlord looked positively smug. "I'll have you know I most definitely did," he proclaimed. "Several hundred years ago. I believe it was sometime in October, actually."

Jack considered the glass in his hand. "That's crazy," he decided. "I'm trying to imagine you squishing grapes with your toes. It's a really messed up mental image."

Chase laughed. "No," he corrected, "this is a plum wine. I assure you, I never stomped a single grape."

"Well, good, 'cause it would've looked pretty stupid."

Chase elbowed his lover, who only snickered in response.

"Remind me _why_ I bound myself to a silly little idiot who can only think of how inelegant I would've looked making a wine I've just told him I'd been saving for a special occasion for centuries—and shared with him in the middle of our honeymoon," he demanded.

Jack bent just a little bit to kiss Chase on the cheek. "Because I'm awesome," he informed.

Chase rolled his eyes and pulled Jack's head down to rest on his shoulder. "Of course," he drawled warmly. "How could I forget?"

_**Twilight Lavender-**_

The sun rode low on the horizon in the Land of Nowhere. The air was still and empty with the coming of night. Only the dulcet sound of music served to break the tranquility.

_ When purple colored curtains mark the end of the day, I hear you my dear at twilight time…_

Overhead, the sliver of moon beginning to glow amidst the sky of dark blues and fading purples bore witness to two figures close enough to be one.

_ Deepening shadows gather splendor as day is done…_

Chase held Jack close to him like a precious object. Their bodies, pressed together as they were, swayed and stepped in time with the music; a gentle, romantic glide.

_ I count the moments darling, 'til you're here with me…_

"You know this is lame, right?" Jack inquired softly, nuzzling Chase's hair. "We're, like, the lamest bad guys on the planet, right now."

_ Lighting the spark of love that fills me with dreams untold…_

Chase pressed his lips to Jack's neck, just below his ear. "Deal with it, Spicer," he said, continuing to lead his beloved in the smooth, slow steps of their dance.

Jack smiled.

_ Each day I pray for evening just to be with you, together at last at twilight time…_

_**Wintergreen Dream-**_

Jack stared blearily at his overlord. "'splain this to me again," he entreated in a tired slur. "The _fuck_ did I do this time?"

"As if I have to tell you," Chase snorted, glaring fiercely at his consort. He was sitting up in bed as far from Jack as he could manage, looking offended and betrayed and seven different _colors_ of pissed off.

"Yes," Jack exclaimed, "you do! What _could_ I have done? I was _sleeping!_"

Chase narrowed his eyes. "Sleeping _around,_ more like," he sneered.

Jack stared. "_What?_"

"You kissed me and I tasted another on you!" Chase snapped.

"What? No, I didn't!"

"Yes, you did!" the warlord insisted. "I _know_ the taste of your mouth, Spicer and I _know_ you use cinnamon toothpaste; you never touch the minty kind."

Jack shook his head. "No, I mean—I didn't kiss you! I was _sleeping_ just now!"

"You must have."

"_You_ must have been dreaming," Jack declared, "'cause I was out like a light until you growled me awake."

"How am I to know it was a dream?" demanded Chase. "It was likely a premonition."

"Jesus Christ!" the goth exclaimed, his palm smacking into his face. "You're fucking mad at me at—" he glanced at the clock, "—3:52 AM because you had a _dream_ that I cheated on you?"

Chase only glared.

"You're fucking ridiculous," Jack said firmly, gathering his pillow and one of the bed-sheets. "I'm sleeping in the guestroom until you can tone down the crazy."

Chase caught him before he could even swing a foot off of the mattress. "Is that where your lover is meeting you, Spicer?" he demanded. "I won't have it. You aren't going anywhere."

Giving an exasperated grunt, knowing already that it was useless to fight his overlord's grip, Jack allowed himself to be manhandled back to bed in a possessive and unrelenting hold. "You have jealousy issues," he said.

Chase scoffed. "Rightly so," he informed matter-of-factly. "_No one_ may touch what is mine."

Despite himself, Jack felt a little grin quirking his lips. "Go to sleep, you paranoid fuck."

"After you, two-timer."

With an amused snort, Jack settled back down to sleep, hoping that his dream-self would soon straighten up and fly right where Chase's dreams were concerned.

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

**A/N: THIS IS A WORK IN PROGRESS. Here is a status-update on this project, listing each segment by its Collection name (all of which can be found on good ol' Wiki, if you're interested):**

**STANDARD - FINISHED! **

**SILVER SWIRLS - FINISHED! **

**MAGIC SCENT - To be written.**

**GEM TONES - Excluded: nearly all colors touched on in Gems of Chack.**

**CHANGEABLES - Excluded: too specific.**

**COLOR MIX-UP - To be written.**

**PEARL BRITE - Excluded: too difficult to write for colors that all include the word 'pearl.'**

**CRAYONS WITH GLITTER - Excluded: too specific.**

**METALLIC FX - To be written.**

**SILLY SCENTS - To be written.**

**HEADS 'N TAILS - To be written.**

**TRUE TO LIFE - To be written.**

**EXTREME TWISTABLES - To be written.**

**Silver Swirls, Part Two! :D**

**_Pearly Purple-_ Oh, Chase, you schemer, you. ;P**

**_Pewter Blue-_ The Xiaolin Monks failed? OMG, WHAT A NEW CONCEPT. ... XD**

**_Polished Pine-_ Jack is a dork. Chase must also sometimes become a dork in order to appease him. XD**

**_Quick Silver-_ I know it's toxic, but _dammit,_ do I want to play with mercury! It's all shiny and liquidy and cool... That's why a mercury fountain would be several different kinds of epic.**

**_Rose Dust-_ No comment.**

**_Rusty Red-_ Oh, blackmail, you are an awesome plot device. I love you. Also, Chronos Magician: a virtual cake for anyone who can guess what I'm referencing. :D**

**_Shadow Blue-_ The wedding arrives! And yes, the ritual as I described is pretty much all symbolism. the following things are representative of the element of fire: red, south, the vermilion bird, hotness, and summer. For metal: silver, west, the white tiger, dryness, and autumn. And yes, in this particular continuity, Francis Stone of Static Shock fame is Jack's half-brother. Why? Because I feel like making it so. ;P**

**_Shiny Shamrock-_ No comment, again. XD**

**_Steel Teal-_ No comment. XDDD**

**_Sugar Plum-_ Hooray for fluff! :D**

**_Twilight Lavender-_ Song by The Platters, Twilight Time.**

**_Wintergreen Dream-_ Chase's jealous streak runs a mile wide, for real.**

**Anyway, there's Part Two of the Silver Swirls collection! Up next is the Magic Scents, but in the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this latest installment in Crayola of Chack! :D**


	9. MS: B

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Baby Powder-**_

Following his sensitive nose, Chase quickly found himself in the presence of his consort who was leaning over something with an anxious expression.

Considering that he had come in pursuit of the odd scent of baby powder, this was just a mite disconcerting.

"Jack," he said warily, "do you have something you'd like to tell me?"

Startled, the goth spun around. "Chase!" He glanced between his overlord and whatever he had been occupied with for a moment before the question actually hit him. "…huh?"

Chase stepped forward, allowing him to see past Jack to the table he had been hunched over.

It was _not, _as he'd briefly feared, a baby with a soiled diaper.

"What _are _you doing to that shirt, Spicer?"

Jack spared the black-grey tank top another glance, figuring that Chase was referring to the large splotch of white powder in the middle of it.

"I spilled some oil on myself," he said by way of explanation. "I'm trying to soak some of it up before I wash it. So it doesn't stain."

Chase eyed the garment in question. "It's very dark," he said. "If it _does _stain, I doubt you'll notice."

"Yeah, but I'd rather not risk it. It's, like, my favorite shirt."

Chase could've easily pointed out the several dozen shirts in Jack's closet that were identical, but decided the venture would cause more strife than anything else. Instead, he inhaled on a sigh, only to find the overwhelming scent of talcum powder once again pervading his nostrils.

Deciding it was a much better topic of conversation than his consort's inexplicable attachment to an ordinary shirt, he spoke.

"The smell of baby powder really brings me back," he said airily. "It's been years; nostalgic, really."

Jack perked, automatically interested in anything concerning his overlord. "Oh, yeah? What, did you have kids or something?"

Chase laughed. "Certainly not. I still haven't developed a fondness for children after all the centuries I had to do it in."

"So, what, then?"

"Talcum powder has many uses besides the obvious, Jack," he said with a smirk. "Aside from preventing diaper rash and soaking up oil, some use it to cut cocaine."

There was silence for all of a few seconds.

Then, "You did _coke_?"

Chase grinned. "Jack, you sound surprised. I _did_ live through the time period when it was used in 'curing' just about every possible ailment, _and _I was around after it was illegalized and became more of a party drug. Don't forget, either, that Coca-Cola used to contain an amount of it, as well."

Jack blinked, attempting to speak through what was no small amount of shock. "But…weren't you worried about the health effects? Or overdosing? Or…something?"

"Spicer, please," Chase easily waved the concerns away. "I have an accelerated rate of healing. You've seen yourself how quickly my body can bounce back from damage done by recreational drugs."

The albino stared. "I have?"

"Alcohol is a drug, too, Jack," Chase handily reminded. "How many times have we gone out together for whatever reason and indulged in a bit of drinking?"

"Too many to count?"

"And on any of those occasions have I ever seemed more than slightly buzzed, even after we've both drunk enough that _you _end up flirting with household plants?"

"That was _one _time," Jack exclaimed, "and I already told you, that fern made me think of you! It was a very sexy houseplant, thank you very much."

Laughing, Chase playfully ruffled his lover's hair. "Perhaps I should see if the fern has a brother. We could be fronds with benefits."

Jack hastily smoothed his hair back to its usual style with a pout firmly upon his expression. "You're hilarious," he grumbled petulantly. "Feel free to fuck off for awhile while I go wash my shirt."

That said, he blew once upon the tank top, dispelling the majority of the baby powder. Satisfied that the rest would come out in the wash, he picked it up and started to leave the room.

He was standing in the doorway when a random thought hit him and made him pause.

"Chase," he said, turning back to face the man. "You said you did drugs in the 60s and 70s. You weren't…were you involved in the hippie movement at all?"

Chase only grinned at him, gliding through the room in his usual, elegant fashion before coming up right beside Jack. "Let's put it this way," he said. "My favorite song of the era wasn't Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds for nothing."

And with no other explanation than that, Chase was gone, leaving Jack to somehow stop snickering at the thought of the Heylin everlord as a full-out flower child long enough to tend to his stained shirt.

_**Banana-**_

It was a grand total of three and a half hours before Chase found himself confronted by a very peevish looking Jack.

"Where is it?" he demanded to know.

"Where's what?"

This was obviously not the desired response, for Jack scowled. "Don't 'where's what' me, Chase Young, you know _exactly _what I'm talking about!"

Chase snorted. "I'm sorry, _mother,_" he said, "I really don't."

Jack, affronted, put his hands on his hips. "I know you like to think I'm stupid, but I'm really not, so just _tell me._"

Chase heroically forced down the smirk that tried to worm its way onto his lips. "To tell you something, I must first know what you want to hear, Jack," he said as sweetly as a Heylin everlord can.

"Agh!" Jack threw up his hands in frustration and spun on his heel, storming out of the room. "Forget you," he growled, "I'll fucking find it myself!"

In his absence, Chase casually resumed his business and waited.

Barely twenty minutes passed before Jack was once again confronting his master.

"_Seriously,_" the goth stressed, "where'd you put it?"

"Put what?"

"The fucking pie!" Jack exclaimed. "The fucking banana cream pie I've been smelling all day!"

Chase shook his head. "Not all day," he said mildly with a glance at the clock. "It hasn't even been four hours yet."

"Aha!" Jack pointed an accusatory finger at Chase. "So you _admit _you have something to do with it! Where is it?"

"I couldn't hazard a guess."

"Bullshit! You _know._"

"I'm afraid I don't," Chase shrugged. "If there's a pie in my palace that you didn't make yourself, I can't say where it came from."

Unconvinced, Jack inspected the everlord's face for a moment. By all accounts, it was a perfect poker face…except for Chase's eyes, subtly glittering with sadistic amusement.

"You fucker," Jack snarled. "Mark my words: I will _find_ it, and when I do, it's going _right _in that smug face of yours!"

"If you can find it," Chase offered graciously, "I'll _invite _you to do so."

White face turned red by indignation, Jack again left the room with a furious, "Fuck your shit, Chase, I _will!_"

Of course, Chase already knew there was no pie for Jack to find. There was only a handy prankster's spell that made the victim smell a desired object no matter where they went until the spell's caster saw fit to end the torment.

But Jack could hardly have known that as he collapsed to the floor after another two hours of exhaustive searching.

"Fuck you, Chase!" he said to no one, whining almost to the point of sobbing. "Why must you fuck with meeeeeeee?"

A previously bored Chase had no answer for him save for borderline hysterical laughter at his expense.

_**Blueberry-**_

"Uhh…Chase? Is there any particular reason there's a…human skull…on the table?"

"Hm?" Chase disinterestedly looked up from the newspaper he was thumbing through, spotting the object in question. "Oh, that. That's for you."

Jack's freaked out expression as he stared at the skull amplified by a few degrees and he took a small step backwards. Whether or not he realized it, his voice was a pitch higher when he next spoke.

"Oh, well, that's…um. Whose…skull… is it?" he tentatively asked. "I mean, 'cause y'know, I'm flattered that you'd want to kill one of my enemies or something, but I…to be honest, I really don't know what to do with…it…"

Chase rolled his eyes and set down the newspaper. "While there are _many _practical uses for a human skull, this one does not belong to anyone in particular. It's a Shen Gong Wu."

Jack was visibly relieved at that. "Oh. Oh, okay, that's…I thought… Never mind, it's not important. What kind of Wu is it?"

"It's for communication," the warlord explained, "specifically between the living and the dead."

Jack blinked. "The dead?"

"Yes. The Jabber Jaws establishes a link between the user and someone of their choosing who has passed on."

"Oh, that's actually kinda c—" Jack cut himself off and frowned deeply at the Wu. "Wait. It's called the _Jabber Jaws_?"

Chase nodded.

Jack picked the skull up and shoved it at Chase. "Call your brother with it," he demanded. "Tell him he sucks at naming things."

Chase only chuckled at that. "You're only figuring this out now?" he questioned. "After interacting with the Zing Zom-Bone? The Big Bang Meteorang? The _Shen-Ga-Roo_?"

Jack was silent for a moment, but ultimately retracted the Jabber Jaws. "It's still a stupid name," he maintained.

Chase made no comment on that and Jack turned his attention to the Wu in his hands, looking it over in a brief inspection.

"So," he began after a pause, "not that this isn't cool, but…why are you giving this to me again?"

"Before your grandmother's death, the two of you seemed rather close," Chase declared casually. "I thought you might appreciate the opportunity to maintain the relationship in spite of obvious…barriers."

Jack blinked, startled and touched at the same time. "Chase…you mean you…_just because_… That's…uncharacteristically _sweet _of you, actually."

Chase smirked. "It's not just because. It's actually an anniversary present," he explained. "Ours isn't for another week or so, but the Jabber Jaws went active sooner than I expected and I thought it better to give it to you early than wait until the monks ruined the surprise by heroically bursting in here and petulantly demanding I give it back."

Jack snorted. "Okay, _that _sounds more like you." He looked back at the skull in his hands and tilted his head contemplatively. "So…how does it work? Do I just say the name of it and it just…connects?"

"Not quite. Due to the specific nature of its use, the Jabber Jaws requires a guiding…something to know who it's meant to contact."

"A something?" Jack echoed. "What kind of something?"

Chase seemed to shrug. "Anything somehow related to the deceased. A lock of hair, a favored item of clothing or jewelry, et cetera."

Jack frowned. "I dunno if I have anything like that actually." He appeared to think about it for a moment. "Unless you think that ring she gave me would work?"

Thinking of the enchanted purpleheart ring his consort spoke of, Chase slowly shook his head. "The ring would only work if she had dabbled in Heylin witchcraft. Hers was another type entirely and magicks don't always blend well. At best, it simply wouldn't work and at worst, we might expect to be cleaning charred pieces of things off of the ceiling."

"But…wait a minute, if different types of magic don't blend well, how would it work if it was Heylin magic?" Jack wondered. "Isn't the Wu powered by Xiaolin magic?"

"Yes," the dragonlord agreed, "but despite the rift between them, Heylin and Xiaolin are not two separate types. Heylin is just the darker aspect of one unified whole—the same concept as yin and yang or flip sides of the same coin."

"Oh."

Chase took notice of the deeply concentrated expression on Jack's face. "Can you really think of nothing else, Spicer?"

Jack was halfway through the motion of shaking his head 'no' when he abruptly went rigid, inspiration dawning in his eyes.

"I got it!" he exclaimed. "Granny's favorite thing in the world was a Mad Scientist."

Chase stared at him. "Of course," he said nonplussed, "you were her favorite grandson."

Jack couldn't help but grin. "No, no," he clarified, "not _me, _a Mad Scientist: it's a type of shot."

"…oh?"

"Yeah," said Jack, "it's made of equal parts raspberry and blueberry schnapps with grenadine and Bailey's Irish Cream. She loved 'em!"

After a few seconds, Chase conceded, "The does sound right for Phyllis, but I don't see how knowing her favorite drink helps in this case."

"When she died, she left most of her stuff to me," Jack reminded, "including her liquor cabinet. I think I've got a couple bottles around here that haven't been touched since the last time she used them. Maybe with it technically being her property and her favorite drink, it'll be enough to call her."

Chase considered the theory briefly, ultimately deciding, "It couldn't hurt to try, I suppose."

"Great!" Jack said brightly. "I think I may even have one of her shot glasses lying around, too!"

Chase could only shake his head (in spite of the smile on his face) as Jack gleefully scurried off to collect the items in question.

In only a few moments, his consort was back with a yellow shot glass emblazoned with a clear spiral that showed the liquid inside to be of a reddish shade and Chase smirked again.

"Are you sure that's not one of _your _glasses?" he teased.

Jack laughed. "Believe it or not, I think the spiral is a symbol used in witchcraft, too. Red and yellow just happen to be the family colors."

Chase raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Jack nodded. "I'm sure I mentioned Granny gave me my helipack, but she also had a lot of input on the design of my evil look. I don't know if it was for protection or just so I'd be flying the family flag, but when I said I wanted goggles, that's the kind she suggested."

"Protection would make sense," Chase decided easily. "It would certainly explain how you continued to come out of Showdowns more or less unscathed when you had no skills whatsoever."

"Hey!"

Chase waved off Jack's indignation. "I was speaking in the past tense, Spicer. I don't think of you that way _now._"

Jack all but pouted. "_Better_ not," he muttered, even knowing that there was nothing he could _actually _do to Chase to back up the implied threat.

Chase, knowing this just as well as Jack, only grinned in response.

Jack sighed and took a seat at the table, setting the Jabber Jaws and the shot glass side-by-side before him.

"So, we got the thing," he said. "Now what?"

"The Wu and the…object," Chase said, eyeing the shot, "must be in contact."

Jack looked at the shot glass and the curved top of the skull. "…that's not gonna balance unless I go and get some super glue." He turned to Chase. "Should I get some super glue?"

"Not needed." Chase reached over and picked up the Jabber Jaws. "Biology is working with us in this instance. Though this Shen Gong Wu is not an actual human being's skull, it was designed according to one and all human crania have a hole in the bottom."

Jack saw this first hand as the underside of the Jabber Jaws was presented to him, revealing just such an opening. "Huh. Oh, hey, is that where the spinal cord is supposed to go?"

Clearly pleased by the quickly drawn conclusion, Chase nodded. "As you can see, it's a decent sized hole and your grandmother's glass is narrow as far as shot glasses go. It seems as though it might fit, don't you think?"

Jack took back the Jabber Jaws, tracing the circumference of the opening with one finger even as he sight-calculated that of the glass. "It's a _perfect_fit," he eventually decided. "Close, but it should work."

"Then, what are you waiting for?"

"Nothing at all." Jack slid the shot closer, careful not to spill any of the liquid inside and gently lowered the skull over it. As he'd thought, it was something of a tight fit, but hardly impossible. "Jabber Jaws!"

The skull came alive with the hum of Xiaolin energy, much smoother than the unnerving crackle that tended to accompany Heylin magicks. In mere seconds, the Jabber Jaws was aglow with reds and yellows, the glass inside it lighting up as the Wu identified the item and searched for its owner in the afterlife.

Jack smiled so hard his cheeks hurt when, after an absence of several months, he heard the voice of the late Phyllis Spicer through the skull, clear as day.

_"Hmm…I taste a Mad Scientist all of a sudden. Jackie, is that you?" _

"Yeah, Granny," he all but giggled, "it's me."

_"Needy little brat!"_ his grandmother admonished. _"I've only been dead a few weeks and you're already holding séances over me?"_

To anyone else, that might've been an insult, but Jack was more than used to his beloved Granny's ribbing.

"You've been dead a few _months,_you old crone," he shot back. "And I'm not holding a séance. I'm only calling 'cause it's convenient."

_"Oh, of course,"_ said Granny Spicer, "_you always were a lazy one. A séance would be too much trouble for you, wouldn't it?_"

"Damn right it would," Jack agreed. "I've got better things to do."

_"No, you don't."_

Two sets of laughter confirmed for Chase that yes, he had chosen the absolute perfect anniversary gift as usual.

Of course, he _would _find a way to top it for next year. Such was the magnificence of Chase Young.

_"So, being that you're too lazy for séances,"_ Granny Spicer continued, _"should I assume you found a Shen Gong Wu that contacts the dead?"_

Though she'd never been involved in the Heylin circles herself, Phyllis had always been knowledgeable about them (and what went on in them), her own little way of staying involved in her grandson's life.

"Got it in one, Granny," Jack confirmed for her.

_"Then, I imagine that dragon of yours isn't far."_

Chase smirked. "Yes, Phyllis, I'm here."

_"Ahh, good to know you're making yourself useful, then. My Jackie could do with a good guard dog like you."_

"A guard dog?" Chase shook his head, grinning darkly. "You're very lucky I don't plan on dying _and_that I've no soul to have damned even if I did, Phyllis, else I'd get you back for that implication."

"Speaking of which," Jack cut in, "you _are _in hell, right?"

_"Of course I am,"_ Phyllis assured him. _"You don't get to heaven living the way I did, Jackie!"_

"That's what I figured, but…you seem awfully chipper for hell," Jack opined. "You don't get off on eternal pain and torture, do you, Granny?"

Another laugh emanated from the skull. _"Well, I think that's my own business,"_ Phyllis decided, _"but I'm not currently being tortured, no."_

Jack made a face. "Really? Not even a little?"

_"Are you kidding, Jack?"_ Granny Spicer asked. _"This is hell! **Everyone** is evil—they love me here!"_

"…seriously?"

_"Absolutely. I'm practically an evil celebrity, I'll have you know!"_

"So, what, you're partying down there?" Jack wondered.

_"Well, not right **now.** I wouldn't take a call from my fuddy-duddy grandson in the middle of an orgy, but—"_

"Aw, Granny!" Chase had to try very hard to hold back a laugh at the nauseated expression on his consort's face. "I don't need _that _mental image!"

_"Fuddy-duddy,"_ Phyllis declared. _"But for the record, age doesn't matter here. You look as young as you want to look and your old granny was quite the bombshell in her twenties!"_

"You _built _bombshells in your twenties, Phyllis," Chase reminded. "That's where I met you."

_"Then you should remember first-hand how smoking hot I was!"_

Chase had barely opened his mouth when Jack cut in.

"Chase, I swear to god, if you tell me my grandmother excited you sexually, we are going to have serious relationship problems."

Both Chase and Phyllis shared a laugh, even as a mortified Jack prayed desperately not to hear about what a hot chick his Granny was.

Luckily for him, Chase only went on to say, "I've told you before that my relationship with Phyllis was always platonic, Spicer. I can see how a woman like her may have been seen as attractive in her prime, but _I _was never personally interested."

_"A damn shame,"_ said Granny Spicer. _"I'd have shagged your scales off, you wily dragon."_

Jack clapped his hands over his ears, never wishing more than at that moment to have unheard something. "_Granny!_" he chastised again. "I don't care _how_ young you supposedly look, it's _not_ okay to perv on my boyfriend! _Especially _not in front of me!"

_"You act like I'm too old for him,"_ Phyllis snorted. _"He'd be the cradle-robber in this scenario!"_

"And what does that make him with me?"

_"An embryo-robber."_

Chase put a hand to his face and snickered. "Low blow, Phyllis," he declared. "To be fair, things like age-comparison get more than a bit murky when one is forever biologically a teenager."

_"Excuses, excuses! You just don't want my Jackie to realize how old you are and date in his own age-bracket."_

"Fuck my age-bracket," Jack snorted. "Tried that, hated it, and moved on. Besides," he playfully elbowed his master, "I don't mind a little grave-robbing, myself when the walking corpse is _this _sexy."

Chase, torn between smacking his lover upside the head and planting a possessive smooch on him, settled for placing an arm around Jack's shoulders and shaking his head.

_"Well, you can keep that dashing cadaver of yours, Jack. Your granny's already found herself a beau of her own down here."_

Jack blinked. "Grandpa went to hell?"

_"Lukas? Goodness, no,"_ said Phyllis, _"your grandfather was never bad enough to end up here. I found someone I have a bit more in common with, actually."_

"Oh, that's nice. What's he like?"

_"Well, he's evil, obviously. Good-looking, a bit of a misanthrope, but who am I to talk? Anyway, I think you'd like him, Jackie. He's something of an inventor himself."_

Jack frowned. "Really? What's his name?"

_"Nikola."_

Chase watched as Jack went very, very still.

"Tesla?" he all but squeaked.

_"That's the one,"_ Phyllis said proudly. _"I take it you know of his work?"_

"Of course I do!" Jack exclaimed. "He's amazing! Tesla's like…my number o—…like, my number two, all-time evil hero!"

_"Small underworld!"_

Jack latched onto Chase, fixing him with wide, pleading eyes. "Chase, we _have _to go visit."

"No, we do not."

"Of course we do! It's friggin' _Tesla!_ My Granny is dating friggin' _Tesla!_" Jack squealed. "I'll never have a better excuse to meet him!"

Chase coolly pried his consort off of him. "Spicer, try to remember the fact that both of the parties you're speaking about are deceased and in hell."

Jack pouted. "But _Chase…_ It's _Tesla. _Isn't there a Wu or something that lets you go to hell? Y'know, just to visit or something?"

Chase rolled his eyes and said nothing, mostly because there was no reason to give away the surprise for Jack's next anniversary present now that he'd thought of it.

_"Oh, don't fret, Jackie,"_ said Granny Spicer, _"I'll be sure to tell him you're a fan."_

This seemed to be a consolation for the goth (however small), and he sighed. "Tell him he's gotten a cult following since his death, too," he instructed his grandmother. "Oh, and 'fuck Edison.' He'll know what it means."

_"Will do, dear. Now, was there anything else we needed to talk about? The next orgy starts in five minutes and I'm overdressed."_

Jack winced. "Again, Granny, that's awful, but there is one thing I need to ask you. Apparently, this Shen Gong Wu needs a personal item of the dead person to call them. I made a Mad Scientist with the booze you left me and that's how I made it work this time, but I'm eventually gonna run out."

_"So, you're looking for things close to me in life that **aren't** you or liquor?"_

"Basically."

_"That's a tough one. We both know I didn't like much."_ Phyllis made a considering noise through the Jabber Jaws. _"Chase, you're the expert on this. Would an actual part of me do the trick instead of an object?"_

Chase thought about it. "I don't see why not," he decided. "After all, there's nothing closer to one in life than their body."

"But you don't _have _a body anymore, Granny," Jack pointed out.

_"No, but you haven't tossed my ashes out already, have you, you ungrateful brat?"_

Jack snorted. "Nah, but you've got good timing. We're _just _starting to run low on kitty litter around here."

_"Absolute brat!"_ Granny Spicer declared. _"You're my grandson, alright."_

Jack smiled, fully prepared with another snarky retort, but unfortunately, he never got the chance to use it.

From several rooms away, a loud crash sounded, suspiciously like the noise it would make if the huge door to an evil fortress was broken in. Immediately following said noise was a distant, righteous proclamation.

"Chase Young! You _will _return the Jabber Jaws to us immediately!"

Chase gave a long-suffering sigh even as Jack sniggered beside him.

"Right on cue, huh?" Returning his attention to the Wu, he said, "Sorry, Granny, it looks like we've got some uninvited guests…and door-repair to attend to."

Phyllis chuckled. _"Alright, Jackie, you go. I'll rock Nikola's world **twice** as hard for you."_

"_Creepy,_ Granny," Jack yowled, "_so _creepy!"

Another laugh and then the red and yellow glow from within the Jabber Jaws went dim, signaling the end of the connection.

"Well, that was a fun call," Jack decided, lifting the Wu off of the shot glass and picking it up. Turning to Chase, he wondered, "How are we going to deal with the Xiaolin babies?"

Chase rubbed a hand over his face tiredly, gesturing to what Jack held in his hand. "Give me that. I'll take care of it."

Jack stared at him, baffled. "You're actually going to give them the Jabber Jaws?"

Chase snorted. "_Hell _no." He reached out and took the shot glass from Jack instead, tossing it back easily.

After another moment, he stood. "Hm. Not bad," he decided, handing the empty yellow glass back to his consort, "though I confess, it's not my favorite 'mad scientist.'"

Jack shook his head. "_Way_ corny, Chase. Now go whip some monkly ass and get back in here. You've more than earned _your _early anniversary present."

Chase trudged off to oust the intruders from his home with a smile. "I most certainly have!" he agreed.

_**Bubblegum-**_

"So, I take it you come here quite often?"

Jack made a quiet noise, best described as a 'snerk.' "Is that an actual question, or are you trying to pick me up?"

Chase frowned at him. "Trust me, Spicer," he said, "I am _well _beyond the need for something so crude as pick-up lines, and even if I wasn't, I would hardly need to use them on you."

"Clearly not," Jack agreed succinctly. "We're already shopping together and if TV is any indication for what that means, we're already well on our way to being an old married couple."

Heroically resisting the urge to sigh or inflict some sort of minor punishment upon his consort for his insolence, Chase managed to only demand, "Answer the question."

"Yes, I do come here often," Jack declared. "6-Sixty Six is the only evil convenience store within a thousand miles of your palace. Whenever I _personally _go out for evil junk food, I come to this place."

Chase appeared very unimpressed as he glanced around the aisle Jack was currently rifling through; specifically at the dim, 'creepy' lighting and cheesy signs advertising all of the shop's best 'steals.' "It seems tacky to me," he said, a hint of sarcasm entering his tone as he continued, "though I suppose you think it's _cool._"

"I don't think it's anything," Jack countered. "All I know is, your regular gas station doesn't carry _these._"

A bag of something was tossed back at Chase, which he easily caught with a loud crinkle of the distinctive packaging. A glance was enough to identify the snacks, for they were a kind that the dragonlord had seen many times before.

Chocthulhu Chips— calamari sliced like potato chips, crisped, seasoned, and then dipped in chocolate. They were something he had chastised his consort for bringing into his home in the first place…until he actually tried a few.

The odd blend of spices, textures, and flavors ultimately proved to be a godsend for taste buds as bored as his, and it marked one of the few times in his exceedingly long life that Chase Young officially retracted an opinion about something.

Grudgingly, he placed the bag in the basket Jack carried at his elbow (alongside the other two bags that were already there) and resolved not to comment any further on the convenience store or any of the tawdry decorations within.

As it turned out, most of the best snack foods Jack brought into their home were likely bought in said store. The next several minutes were spent gathering treats such as Sparklepuffs (jelly-filled cakes coated with marshmallow frosting and edible glitter), Chernobolt (a fluorescent green energy drink with enough caffeine and sugar to kick-start even _Chase's _metabolism), and of course, a case of Sugar Serpents (thin strands of the sweetest taffy braided into intricately detailed snakes).

The venue was hardly the most tasteful, but it could certainly deliver the goods.

Chase escorted his consort all the way back to the counter, behind which stood a man wearing a laughably stupid cape and plastic fangs. Casually ignoring him for obvious reasons, he asked of Jack, "That's it? You're not forgetting anything?"

Jack grinned at him as he set the basket on top of the counter. "What, you think I'd ever gyp you on junk food? I'd have to go without, too, y'know. I checked the mental list at least four times on this one. We've got everything."

"Not _everything, _right, Jack?" the cashier abruptly cut in.

Jack's attention immediately went to the caped man, recognition flaring in his eyes and Chase internally groaned at the realization that he was about to be involved in a conversation wherein a participant was dressed up like a dime store vampire.

"Wei Long!" Jack greeted, smiling broadly. "I thought you only worked here Mondays and Wednesdays."

The cape-wearing cashier, Wei Long apparently, smiled back and began ringing up the items in the basket on the counter. "My schedule changed for this semester, so I switched to Tuesdays and Thursdays."

Jack turned to his master, explaining, "Chase, this is Wei Long. We were in grammar school together before I dropped out. He's working here part-time now to pay his way through evil college."

Chase stared at him. "…evil college?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.

Thankfully for his sanity, Chase did not get an answer to his question.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, Jack," Wei Long interrupted. "Did you just say his name is Chase? As in—"

"That's the one!" Jack proclaimed proudly. "Chase Young in living color. I finally bagged him."

Chase scoffed, having half a mind to be affronted. "If anything, _I_ bagged _you, _Spicer."

Jack grabbed Chase's arm and pulled him a bit closer. "With which I am perfectly okay."

Chase only rolled his eyes.

"Well, congratulations, Jack, I knew you had it in you," said Wei Long. "You picked a great day to bring him, too: that order of yours is finally in."

"Oh, man, I almost forgot to ask about that!" Jack realized. "It's really here?"

"It just came in a couple days ago."

"Well, what are you waiting for? Chase has _gotta _see it!"

The caped man laughed. "Alright, alright," he said, "I'll go get it for you. It's in the back."

Wei Long disappeared into a back room and Chase raised an eyebrow at his consort. "And just what is it I _have _to see?" he asked.

"This place sells a certain kind of gum I like," Jack replied somewhat vaguely. "Problem is, they don't stock it in any kind of bulk, so whenever I came here, I'd just clean out the inventory. Apparently, that was pissing off the _other customers_," he sneered, "so I had to work it out with the manager that I just order _through _them instead of buying what's on the shelves."

"Gum?" Chase sounded quite dubious indeed. "And just what is so special about this gum that it would warrant my attention?"

Jack smiled, probably an attempt at 'mystery,' but all that came across was 'mischievous.' "You'll see in a second," he teased.

Chase did not have time to demand any further clarification, because Wei Long chose that moment to return with a modestly sized cardboard box.

"There you go, Jack," he declared, placing it on the counter next to the already-bagged items, "a whole year's supply. How long do you think that'll feed your addiction?"

Jack snorted. "We'll see. Mind if I open it here?"

"Sure, go right ahead," Wei Long said, grinning in Chase's direction. "I'm as interested as you are to see what the Prince of Darkness thinks of this."

Chase eyed both Jack and his friend somewhat warily, but said nothing.

Jack certainly didn't seem to mind his lack of comment, for he was already producing a small box cutter from one of the many pockets in his trench coat and slicing through the packing tape.

The box flaps were folded back and the dim store lighting immediately reflected off the contents, causing a deep red gleam.

Jack plucked out one of the many thin foil packages and handed it to his master. "_This,_" he said, "is what warrants your attention."

For a moment, Chase only stared at it. Then, "…'Heylin Gum…and _Trading Cards_'?"

Jack and Wei Long both laughed, but it was Jack who spoke. "I know, I was a little weirded out when I found it, too, but there's apparently a lot of interest in the stuff we do."

"Well, of course, Jack," Wei Long said. "There's a whole evil subculture—you know that. Heylin is basically the local chapter."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Chase cleared his throat. "Spicer?"

"Oh, right, sorry," Jack said, taking back the pack. "Explanation. Well, this company makes, uh…gum and trading cards…obviously. They've got cards and different flavors of gum for everybody on the Heylin side. It's actually pretty cool, see," he held up the red foil, "what they do is color-code the packaging by the flavor of gum inside. Then, there are three cards in there with it. Two are random, but one is whichever person corresponds to the gum flavor."

"And what flavor does red signify?" Chase asked.

"Spicy Cinnamon," Jack smirked, tearing open the pack of gum and removing a single card without looking at it. "It's my favorite flavor and I've been collecting the main card from these packs for years. Wanna guess whose picture is on these things?"

Chase smirked. "I think I already know."

"You may know _that,_ but you have no idea how certifiable this guy is over you," Wei Long told him. "We used to trade cards sometimes and you could get _anything _off of him in exchange for one of yours. It was kinda sad, actually."

Jack scoffed. "Oh, shut up, Wei, you can never have enough Chases."

"You must have at least a hundred by now, Jack."

"I've been collecting for, like, six years," Jack informed him. "It's more like three _times _that."

"And you don't see _any _problem with having three hundred-something of the exact same card?"

"Hey, hey, hey, aren't we forgetting _your _collecting habits?" Jack countered. "I never seemed to have any problem getting Chases off you in exchange for a couple Katnappés."

Chase pondered the oddness of being referred to in the plural, even as Wei Long defensively exclaimed, "She's hot, man! Besides, my collection is only in _double _digits."

"Well, Chase is hot, too," Jack said firmly. "And speaking of digits, I told you I could get Ashley's for you and try to set you up if you want. I think she might owe me a favor or two."

Wei Long shook his head. "She wouldn't even look twice at me," he said. "I'm just a wannabe like you were. _Maybe _after I graduate and make a name for myself or something, alright?"

"Keep up the 'wannabe' comments and I'll tell her you're a dog-lover," Jack warned.

Wei Long laughed and Jack grudgingly smiled before glancing at the card in his hand.

Chase tilted his head at the surprised expression that flitted across Jack's face. "What is it?"

"Oh, it's nothing. It just looks like they updated the picture for yours. _Damn, _it looks good, too," Jack muttered, a certain heat in his tone that immediately had Chase intrigued. "Almost makes me wish they'd done it before I had the real thing to keep me busy."

Curious, Chase peered over his consort's shoulder to inspect the card for himself. The image on it, while certainly realistic, was most definitely not a depiction of an authentic scene in his life. Anyone who had _actually _seen him as he was represented here would no longer be alive to recreate the moment.

The card showed him from a low angled perspective, standing on the ledge outside his volcanic fortress. Behind him, flames consumed his stronghold, pouring forth from the menacing 'eyes' and 'mouth' and turning the sky vibrant shades of black and red. Fire, of course, was an excellent backlighting for Chase himself, making his armor glint and glimmer as it reflected the burning light.

The pose, too, was absolutely Chase Young. Standing tall, almost casual in his arrogance, the image of himself sneered pridefully downwards at some enemy that had already fallen at his feet. His long hair seemed to be in the midst of some unseen breeze and was currently frozen as a thick, inky curl against the reddest part of the sky.

Not to mention, of course, the fact that even though much of his face was in shadow thanks to the inferno in the background, his eyes were alight with a deadly meld of scarlet and gold, as if he were struggling to maintain control of his inner monster.

All told, it _was _a flattering picture.

"It's not bad," he said aloud, plucking it from Jack's hand for a closer look. "However…I don't recall ever being contacted about _permission _for this."

Jack managed to regain some semblance of focus easily enough and responded with an amused snort. "Chase, it's an _evil_ gum company making these things," he pointed out. "What, are they gonna pay royalties and do things _legally_?"

After a moment, Chase decided, "You make a fair point," and returned his attention to the card in his hand.

Underneath the picture was his name, boldly printed and a bit larger than the rest of the text.

The text itself read, _ Once mentored by Hannibal Roy Bean, this immortal warlord now rules over the Land of Nowhere with an iron fist. All who dare to oppose this soulless terror beware._

Well. At least they had their facts straight.

Beneath that completely accurate blurb, however, was another bold heading that caught Chase's attention and might've made a lesser man do a double take.

"_Trivia_?" he asked with an odd look at his consort.

"Well," Jack seemed to shrug, "they gotta fill the card up with something, don't they?"

Looking at the three bullet points on the card, Chase read aloud, "Has the ability to transform into a dragon, employs an army of once-human jungle cat warriors, and winner of the… 'Hottest Heylin Hunk' poll for twenty consecutive years." He sharply turned to frown at Jack. "_Only_ twenty years?" he demanded.

Jack laughed. "The poll's only been _going _for twenty years."

This knowledge seemed to appease Chase, for he made a quiet 'hm' and handed the card to Jack again.

"So, I have a trading card, as does Katnappé. There are others?"

"Oh, sure," Wei Long said. "We have a whole rack of them on the other side of the store."

Chase frowned, turning to Jack. "Why didn't you show it to me while we were shopping?"

"I already told you I'm basically forbidden from buying it off the shelves," Jack grumbled. "I've sort of gotten into the habit of not even going past it anymore."

Wei Long suddenly looked at his friend with a strange expression. "You _haven't _been by the rack in awhile, have you?"

Jack blinked at him. "Uh…no?"

A slow smile stretched its way across the clerk's face and he dragged the opened box on the counter a bit closer to him. "Why don't you go check it out?" he suggested. "I'll watch your stuff for you and tape this back up."

"Are you sure?" Jack wondered. "Don't you have other customers to deal with?"

"It's a slow day," Wei Long assured. "In case you haven't noticed, you two are the only ones in here. Go, show Chase the other flavors. I swear I won't tell my boss I let you near the gum."

"Well…um…okay, I guess…" Jack automatically slipped his hand into Chase's and headed away from the counter. "Thanks."

"No problem, Jack," Wei Long said, still grinning oddly. "You have fun."

Chase followed his consort, waiting until they were both well out of eye and earshot to inquire, "What was that about?"

"No idea," Jack admitted, still leading the way, "but you don't have to worry. He wouldn't do anything to seriously mess with me."

"How can you be so sure?"

"He only got into the college he's in now because it's my alma mater and I wrote him a letter of rec," Jack informed his master. "He had the grades, but he was way too low on evil extracurriculars. He wouldn't have made it without me and he knows it."

Chase stared at him. "_You _attended evil college?" Jack nodded. "When was this?"

"Years ago," Jack said flippantly. "I told you I dropped out of elementary? I enrolled in college the next day. With the money and influence behind the Spicer name plus my grades it was a cinch getting in."

"…that explains so much, and yet so little."

"Doesn't it just? Anyway, here's the gum rack."

And so it was, a black metal rack upon which hung several dozen gum-and-card packs like the ones Chase had seen in Jack's box. The only difference was, as Jack had said, the color of the packaging, and there was a metallic rainbow of rectangles hanging in rows before the two of them.

Aside from the color, though, there seemed to be no way to tell them apart. The sole bits of text on the foil were the product name and company logo, making it so that only those who knew what they were doing would know what flavor of gum they'd bought.

"The red ones are mine," stated Chase. "Which are Katnappé's?"

"The yellow," Jack said, pointing to a row of the aforementioned color. "Her gum is Lemon Sorbet. I think they were going for something like…sweet and sour, but with kind of a frosty kick to it."

"Fitting," Chase decided. "Bean was mentioned on my card. I assume he has a brand as well?"

"Yeah, he does." This time, Jack gestured to a row of shimmery puce, the shade made no less ugly by the shininess of it. "Uhhh...to be honest, I'm not sure _what _his is supposed to be, but it...kinda tasted like dirt. Or mud. Trust me, I only tried it once and never again."

In spite of himself, Chase smirked. "Bean tends to produce that reaction often."

"Gee, I wonder why?" The rhetorical question was followed up with a nod to a row just beneath the puce. "The green one's are Wuya's. I think hers are Green Apple, but it's a little sour for my tastes."

"Probably _Granny Smith _Apple," Chase said with such a straight face that the goth beside him couldn't help but laugh. Continuing to inspect the colorful foils, his next question was, "Whose are the blue ones?"

"Huh?" Jack saw which pack Chase was looking at. "Oh. I think that's Vlad's? Some kind of Wintermint or something, if I'm remembering right."

"Mint? And here, I'd thought they'd go for something more typically Russian like borscht. Or vodka."

"Oh, god," Jack snickered, "those would taste awful. Plus, how are they supposed to appeal to a child market with Vodka gum? The parents would never let it slide and it's just irresponsible not to try and sell evil to kids, y'know."

"If it's truly an evil corporation, they would find a way to make the kids _get _it whether or not the parents approve."

Jack paused. "Touché, but mint is, like, the most popular gum flavor. They probably had to pin it on someone just to make sure they'd have good sales."

"Well, if that's true, then why isn't there an Original Bubblegum flavor?" Chase wondered. "I don't see any pink foil here."

"I'm not sure," Jack admitted. "That's a good question. I guess they just didn't think pink was evil enough."

Chase scoffed. "That's a stereotype. There's nothing wrong with pink. _Someone _should be paving the way for pink evil."

Jack sighed at the resurgence of the old argument and placed a comforting hand on Chase's shoulder. "We talked about this already, babe. Pink isn't the problem, it's how culture has attached a feminine stigma to pink. We'll probably outlive it and then pink can be cool and masculine and evil and stuff, alright?"

Chase sensed he was being patronized and shrugged off the hand. Being that the argument in question was about a color, however, he chose to let the insult slide and turned back to the gum rack.

Spotting something of interest, Chase pulled down a pack with diagonal stripes of black, white, and red. "This is yours, Spicer?"

Jack flinched ever so slightly. "No," he said, taking the pack from his master. "Actually this one is Le Mime's. They gave him Chocolate Cherry."

"…Le Mime?"

"Yeah, Le Mime. You remember him, from the…" Jack trailed off. "Oh. Hey, I guess you guys never officially met. Well, basically, he's a mime and whatever he mimes becomes reality."

After a brief moment of recollection, Chase came up with an image of a French clown in a red and white striped sweater. "Ah. I believe I _have _seen him around somewhere." He cast a suspicious gaze towards his consort. "You speak as if you know him a bit more…intimately than I."

Jack, of course, completely missed all tones of accusation and casually replied, "Yeah, we worked together on a thing once. I didn't really like him at first, but he's not such a bad guy…y'know, for being a mime. He grows on you."

"Oh, _does _he?"

"Yeah, in a way. He's actually a better friend than I expected he would be." Completely oblivious to the growing scowl on Chase's face, Jack replaced the striped gum pack on the rack. "You know he'd always come see me when I was in France for business or whatever? He'd always insist on taking me out to lunch, too, and he'd always treat. He did a lot of nice crap like that."

"I see. And have you seen this…Le Mime recently, Spicer?" Chase demanded.

Jack blinked, confused as to where the hard, frigid tone had come from. "Recently? Uh…no, not recently. It's been…at _least _a year."

"It will be more than a year," Chase said. "Spicer, I forbid you from seeing this man again."

Jack's eyes went wide. "What? Why? I mean, I know he can be a little...eccentric sometimes, but he's got some pretty cool powers. It could be useful for, like...schemes and stuff, even if he can be kind of touchy-feely."

An abrupt cold fury crashed through Chase. "_Touchy-feely_?"

Jack just barely refrained from taking a step back at the very scary aura suddenly rolling off of his lover in waves. "Uh. Well, I mean, it's not a big deal. He just kissed my hand a couple times. He's French, though, I think their culture tends to be a little more hands on…"

Chase _growled._ "Spicer," he said tightly. "You are _my_ consort. You will _not _see that man again—the alternative is that I murder you both."

"Chase, you're kind of freaking me out," Jack said timidly. "You're acting like Le Mime is—…" Jack cut himself off, looking very surprised indeed. "Wait…do you think he's…_into _me?"

"_Finally,_ he gets a clue!" Chase snapped, sounding exasperated. "_Yes,_ he is 'into you,' but he can't have you. You're _mine._"

"Of course I am," Jack agreed immediately. "I know that. I wasn't even _thinking _about Le Mime that way! I thought he was just…well, no, it doesn't matter. I'm not gonna see him again if that's his game."

That casual, but firm statement was exactly the right thing to say: to Chase, it spoke of complete and deeply-ingrained loyalty and managed to instantly smooth over most of the feathers ruffled by the mention of French clowns with amorous designs on his consort.

"Yes," he agreed, possessively grabbing Jack's hand and pulling him closer, "you _won't _see him again."

Jack smiled and leaned over to kiss his master. "Trust me, Chase, if I really had any interest in Le Mime, I'd have three hundred and eighty four of _his_cards instead of yours."

At the reminder, Chase cast another look towards the gum rack, just barely resisting the urge to sneer at the row of striped packs. "Hmph. Well then, if the gum with _your _color scheme isn't yours, which is?"

So close together, Chase could _feel _Jack's flinch this time.

Jack took awhile to formulate a response and when he did, it came with a rough sigh. "I…I don't have one," he eventually confessed.

"…what?"

"I know, I know," Jack muttered, "it's embarrassing as hell, but I've never had one. Six damn years I've been doing this, graduated _top_ of my class at the most evil and prestigious university around and I'm _still _not evil enough for a damn trading card."

"You're evil," Chase said, sounding taken aback that anyone could think otherwise. "You're _my_ apprentice, Spicer. You wouldn't have gotten that position if you weren't evil, and even if you _hadn't _been so prior to my instruction, you most certainly are now!"

Jack made a face, visibly drooping. "Yeah, sure. Tell that to the gum people, 'cause they stopped taking my complaint calls years ago. As far as anybody else cares, I'm still basically a nobody."

"…Jack," Chase said after a moment, as gently as an evil warlord can, "you're overreacting, don't you think? Isn't it possible they just couldn't think of a fitting flavor for you that wasn't already taken? Much as the way for pink evil needs to be paved, you really aren't the one to do it."

The attempt at humor did not go over at all well and Jack sadly shook his head. "No, Chase, that's not it. They don't think I'm good enough. I've got proof." He reached out and grabbed another pack from the gum rack, this one dark gray in color. "If they had any problem selling weird flavors, this one wouldn't exist. It's Motor Oil."

Chase's nose wrinkled in distaste. "Motor Oil? And who, if not you, did they pin that flavor on?"

Jack sighed again. "Robo-Jack."

Chase stilled. "Your…robotic double?"

Jack nodded.

"The one _you_ built _and _dismantled."

"Mmhm."

"How long has _he _had a card?" Chase demanded to know.

Jack drooped even further. "Five years," he reluctantly answered. "Since I built him. Apparently, despite the terrible gum sales, they won't get rid of it because he was 'too big of a player' on the Heylin side to leave out."

Indignant on behalf of his consort, Chase sneered. "That's beyond insulting! How _dare_ they slight _my _apprentice so blatantly?"

Jack placed his mechanical clone's claim to fame back on the rack. "Don't worry about it, Chase," he shrugged, "it's not that big a deal."

"It _is_ a big deal," Chase insisted. "You were insulted. As far as things go in matters such as these, you are an extension of myself. Consequently, _I've_ been insulted." He scoffed. "As if _I _would ever lower myself to teach someone 'unimportant'!"

"It…_was _a pretty huge blow to my ego," Jack admitted, "but really, I'm over it. It only bugs me when I think about it too hard." He paused, then grinned. "I tend to avoid thinking about it too hard by rolling around in my pile of hundreds of Chases."

The dragonlord chuckled. "Flattering, Spicer, if a little creepy."

"You want creepy?" Jack challenged. "I've seen Wuya doing that with her _own _cards."

"That sounds right. I _have _caught her kissing her own reflection before."

"Well," Jack laughed, "that makes me feel a little better, too. Still, I'd guess we'd better be getting back to Wei Long. I don't want him to start rustling around in my gum looking to steal Katnappés off me without a fair exchange of Chases."

Jack turned around and made to head back to the front of the store.

"Spicer," Chase said and some strange conviction in his voice was enough to make Jack stop. "It seems you haven't shown me _all _the trading cards here, yet."

"What?" Jack frowned as he thought about it. "Sure I did. There's only seven flavors—you, Wuya, Ashley, Vlad, Le Mime, Bean, and…the scrap heap that shall not be named again."

The smirk Chase gave him was nearly imperceptible. "Really? Then whose is this?"

Jack stared at the thin metallic package Chase held up for him. "I…I don't know," he said slowly, coming back to his master's side again. "I've never seen a _silver _one before…"

Chase's smirk broadened. "I think I've figured out why your friend wanted you to come back here," he decided. "You don't suppose he'd mind if this was opened, do you?"

"Uh…probably not as long we pay for it, I guess. What are y—"

Chase interrupted him with the tearing sound that accompanied the ripping off of the top of the package.

Jack watched as he removed a card and inspected it, wondering why he suddenly felt so damn jittery.

"I thought you told me you didn't have a card, Jack."

Jack's breath caught in throat for a second and he took another step closer. "I don't," he said, but the undercurrent of excitement in his tone spoke to just how much he wanted to be contradicted.

He was.

"Then why," wondered Chase, "am I looking at your name and picture?"

There was a space of five whole seconds before Jack loudly squealed, "_HOLY SHIT, **REALLY?**_"

From across the store, Wei Long shouted back, "I told you you'd have fun over there!"

Jack giggled and practically bounced on his heels as he politely requested of Chase to, "Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme!"

Chase handed it over without a fight and watched as the delight on Jack's face faded into awe.

"Oh _wow,_" he breathed almost reverently. "I look so _cool._"

And cool he was, perhaps even almost as cool as _Chase's _card!

Whoever had designed the picture had set it somewhere very dystopian, crowded with rusted and broken down bits of machinery mostly obscured by ominous gray smog. From _out _of the smog was emerging a horde of Jackbots.

Really, Jack had to give the artist credit for the sheer level of detail on his beloved creations, all perfectly accurate and in proportion down to every last joint and claw. That was, in fact, quite a feat considering the sheer number of them depicted, which had to be well into the hundreds.

The exact count of the robotic army, however, was up in the air because for every mechanical soldier unobscured (or only partially obscured) by the haze, there were several pairs of eerily glowing red eyes further back, making the Jackbots seem to go on forever.

At their forefront, dead center was one machine in particular which Jack was able to instantly identify as JB-13, his unofficial second-in-command. It was fitting that he be leading the charge and that perched atop him was Jack himself.

Jack's picture double had one heavy black boot planted on JB-13's shoulder, the other likely braced somewhere in the middle of its back. The otherwise precarious stance was made balanced by the gloved hand splayed on the top of the robot's head, allowing for a relatively stable, absolutely arrogant lean while the other arm was settled casually over his raised knee.

The semi-crouched position was perfect for showing off his favorite trench coat, too, and the tattered ends of it were fanned out behind him like nebulous tendrils of shadow. It actually made him look more than a little dangerous, but that was helped out a lot by the facial expression they'd chosen to give him, too.

Chase, as his master and teacher, was always telling him that he was a chaotic sort of evil. That whenever he was wreaking mayhem and confusion and was _truly _in his element, he could be unpredictable and yes, could perhaps even frighten others with the realization that there was no telling what he might do next.

Looking at the picture on this card, he could see why Chase might've said that. His skin stark white against the dark, foggy background, his red eyes bright with what was obviously a sadistic sort of glee, and his mouth twisted into a wide, crooked grin…hell, yes, Jack agreed, he looked downright _scary._

…and it was goddamn _awesome._

"Finally," he crowed in triumph, "recognition!"

"Look at the description," Chase encouraged.

Jack did so, his manic grin growing wider and wider with each word he read.

_A relative newcomer to the Heylin, this prolific inventor has rapidly risen through the ranks after a rocky start and now claims apprenticeship to none other than Chase Young. His consistent perseverance and eclectic style of villainy ensure a dark and promising future for this evil maverick._

"Aw, _Chase…_" Jack turned to his master with a victorious sparkle in his eyes, looking like he could very well start bouncing again. "I'm an 'evil maverick'! People are going to see this and think I'm cool!" He hesitated a moment before shouting across the store, "Wei Long, do people think I'm cool now?"

"Yeah, somehow," Wei Long called back. "I'm surprised you didn't know about this with all the egosurfing you do! You didn't see it on any of the fansites?"

This time, Jack _did_ resume bouncing with a sharp squeal of, "I have _fansites_? Oh my god!" Feeling absolutely giddy, he looked back at the card in his hands and marveled at how a simple thing like his name and picture in actual, physical print could be so damn _awesome._

"What else is written there?" Chase inquired. "I didn't get to look at the 'Trivia' section before you asked to see it."

Jack found the section in question and dutifully read the bullet points aloud. "Commands a legion of robots, known as Jackbots, the latest in a long line of evil Spicers, including the multifarious Phyllis 'Phil' Spicer and mastermind 'Sly' Sylvia Spicer, and…" Jack's face fell into a pout as he finished, "creator of Robo-Jack. I finally get my own card and _still _can't escape the bastard."

However, he was quickly back to grinning again. "Fuck it," he decided, "it's still my own card _and_ I bet my sales are better than his crappy tasting gum! …say, what flavor _is _my gum, anyhow?"

Chase, who still held the silver foil package, removed a stick of said gum to investigate. With his dragon senses, it was no trouble at all to pick up and identify the artificial scent even through the wrapper.

"Grape."

Jack blinked at him. "Grape? Really?"

"Muscat Grape, to be precise," Chase clarified. "This particular variety of grape has a very distinct aroma that's been reproduced quite accurately here."

Jack took a sniff as well when the stick was presented just beneath his nose, finding the scent to be cloyingly sweet, almost floral. "Huh. Why do you think they went with grapes? I never thought of myself as a…grapey kind of guy."

"No? I think it's a _very _fitting choice."

Jack pulled away from the gum. "How do you figure that?"

"Well," said Chase, "Muscat grapes are grown all over the world since they can thrive in most environments and some theorize that it's one of the oldest grape families still in existence."

Jack appeared to consider this. "I _am_ adaptable," he agreed, "and I've always been a globe-hopper…plus I do come from a pretty prestigious family. Alright, yeah, I guess that makes sense. Still, grapes seem a little _sweet. _I'm evil enough to have a card, shouldn't I be past sweet?"

Chase shook his head with a soft chuckle. "Not yet, Spicer. You're getting there, but you do still have your moments of...'sweetness' _and,_" he teased as an afterthought, "greenness."

"Hey!"

"However, it's a sweetness that quite appeals to my tastes—something I'm sure to enjoy corrupting into something a bit darker." He turned the stick of gum over, observing the intricate pattern on the wrapper before glancing over at his consort with a wry smile. "Did you know that Muscat grapes have many uses, Jack?"

"They do?" Jack asked with a frown. "Like what?"

"They make good table grapes, of course," Chase informed him. "They're also used to flavor certain teas and soft drinks, as well as desserts. It should go without saying that they can make an array of excellent white wines, too."

"So…what are you g—"

Jack was cut off with a kiss from his master.

"It reminds me of your limitless potential," Chase purred upon breaking the kiss. "It reminds me that you have the makings of so many different kinds of great evil…and that no matter what you ultimately become, you will also be _mine._"

Jack had to physically hold himself back from an even sappier display of affection when Chase leaned over to whisper in his ear, "Perhaps I'll even start a collection of my own and gather three hundred and eighty four of _you._"

"You're trying to flatter me," Jack accused. "Stop it."

"Why?" Chase wondered, settling one large hand _very _close to where Jack's lower back would cease to be considered the lower back. "Isn't it working?"

Jack took a deliberate step away from the hand. "You _know_ it's working," he said matter-of-factly. "That's the problem. Believe it or not, 'a convenience store' is not on my list of places to have sex in and there isn't _even _a list for people I want to have sex in front of."

Chase snorted. "We're not in front of your friend, Spicer. Not unless he can see through several aisles."

"Somebody's gonna watch the security tapes, Chase," Jack pointed out, "and if it's Wei Long, I am _not _gonna hear the end of it."

"Do you really care so much about the off-chance he might see it?"

"If it isn't him, then it might be the manager or somebody who'd actually ban us from the store. I don't know about you, but I _like _keeping the palace stocked with Chocthulhu Chips and such—which, by the way, are still waiting to be picked up at the counter."

And for the delicious joys of junk food, Chase was much more willing to back down, though he did so with a reluctant sigh. "Fine," he relented, "you have precisely five minutes. Then, home."

"Five minutes is all I need," Jack agreed. He took the opened silver gum pack from Chase and slipped his trading card back inside. "I'll go pay for this and get our stuff and then we're gone."

Chase nodded in approval as Jack went off to do just that, taking a moment to unwrap the stick of gum he still held and pop it into his mouth before following.

Yes, the flavor did appeal _perfectly_ to his tastes. Perhaps Jack really _wouldn't_ be the only collector in the palace, after all.

**A/N: HEY EVERYBODY, I'M ALIVE! :D**

**Sorry it's been so long since I posted anything. I really _have_ been working on fic, but it's been really hard for me to get one complete, postable work together to _show_ you guys.**

**I had been hoping the Magic Scent section of Crayola would be doable in that respect, but it seems I can't really write drabbles anymore- as you can see, all of the above words turned out to be ficlets in their own right, most about 20-pages each. It's good for the stories and plots, but not so good for quick posting. I hope the trade-off is worth it to you guys. XD**

**Anyway, I'm still not done with Magic Scent as a collection- I've really only plowed through the letters B and C, but it's been a long time since I posted any fic at all and I'm pretty proud of what I have with this, so I decided it was time I shared.**

**_Baby Powder - _ Inspired by Silvarbelle's Many Facts, One Truth (on deviantART) and in general, the idea that Chase lived through many ages in which drugs were common and popular, so why wouldn't he have tried any? Disclaimer #2: Yes, drugs are still bad, kids, and you shouldn't do them unless you're a dragonlord with an increased resistance to them. XD**

**_Banana - _ Because Chase, even a Chase who is in love with Jack, is still a troll. You cannot deny this fact of life. **

**_Blueberry - _ I know I've killed Granny Spicer off a couple times before, but I couldn't let that be the permanent end of her. Consider this a tribute- she gets to go to the cool version of Hell, gets Nikola Tesla as a boyfriend, and she gets regular contact with her living grandson! ;P**

**_Bubblegum - _ ...I fucking had to. The idea when I got it was just too great, so I had to write the whole thing. XD If anybody wants to fanart any of this, please god, go ahead.**

**Anyway, that's the Bs for you- Cs will be going up sometime soon and I'll try and get back to work on the rest of the Magic Scent collection.**

**Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading, everyone! :D**


	10. MS: C, Pt 1

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Cedar Chest-**_

The combination of a thunderous clatter and a high-pitched shriek echoing through the halls of Chase's palace was _just _an unusual enough noise to interrupt the dragonlord's meditation and send him on a search for the all too obvious source.

Finding Jack, who was in his room at the time of the disturbance, had been the easy part. Less easy had been dragging him out from underneath the avalanche of various junk to be found within.

Chase thought himself quite gracious indeed to wait until his consort made it all the way out of the pile and caught his breath to demand an explanation for the not-so-natural disaster.

Untangling himself from an unraveled ball of twine, Jack gestured to his open closet door, the apparent source of the mess. "It's been, like, ten years since I've been in there," he confessed. "I thought I should…um…go through it or something…"

Chase observed the mound of assorted odds and ends from which he had just rescued his lover. "Well, _that _backfired."

Jack frowned at him. "Thanks for that, Captain Obvious," he muttered, "you're a life-saver."

Unperturbed, Chase quickly came back with, "You're welcome, grateful citizen, I do my best to help," grinning at Jack's surprised chuckle. "In all seriousness, I wonder just what you intend to do with this mess you've unleashed."

Jack looked at said mess and sighed. "I didn't think it was _this _bad," he said. "I figured I'd just be rearranging some stuff, but now that I see it… Yeah, I'm gonna have to do some heavy duty purging here. Shit."

"Mind if I watch?" Even as he asked, Chase settled himself on the black sheets of Jack's bed, making it clear that he wasn't _really _asking permission.

Jack nonetheless shrugged and gave it. "I guess, but I don't see the appeal unless you've got some kind of cleaning fetish."

Chase smirked at him. "I have no particular fascination in watching you clean, but I _do_love watching you suffer."

Realizing from that statement that his master had every intention of watching him struggle with his own clutter and not lifting a finger to help, Jack nearly gaped at him. "You're a _bastard._"

"You sound as if that surprises you."

This gave Jack pause and after only a moment, he solemnly declared, "I am taking on your mantle, Captain Obvious. You may retire knowing you have an adequate replacement."

Chase threw back his head and laughed while Jack turned his attention to the arduous task in front of him.

For an hour or so, Jack busied himself with going through the items that had fallen out of his crowded closet while his overlord watched and occasionally provided commentary—sometimes welcome and others not. Unneeded items went to a discard pile that would later be dragged away by Jackbots while the things Jack wanted to hang onto for whatever reason were more neatly arranged in a different pile. A tertiary pile was also set up for whatever provoked indecision, which Jack would return to later.

To Chase's surprise (and in spite of what a sappy, sentimental dork his consort could be), the Keep Pile was turning out to be only moderately sized and _not _the contents of the entire closet. When it came to extreme cleaning such as this, Jack seemed to be quite practical and was able to make sound judgments about how necessary an item was to him.

A good thing, certainly, as Chase had no desire to be a broken record and endlessly point out that Jack had survived roughly a decade without any of these things and did he really need them now?

By what seemed to be the halfway point, Chase was barely watching what Jack was doing, lounging on the bed and growing more and more bored for every minute Jack remained too focused on his cleaning to do or say something interesting. In fact, the everlord was about to suggest a break for lunch to refresh them both when a sudden movement caught his eye.

Chase's predator instincts twigged to the motion immediately and he caught a flash of something reddish-brown being swiftly pushed into the Keep Pile.

A mistake on Jack's part, really. If he'd wanted Chase to not notice it, he should have acted more casually.

Chase sat up on the mattress, posture rigid and regal. "Jack," he began firmly, "what was that?"

Far too tellingly, Jack refused to face him. "Nothing," he said, and he said it perhaps a little too quickly.

Chase's expression did not outwardly change, but his tone, sharp and cold said all that needed to be said. "Jack."

"It's a box," Jack amended, but said nothing further and still did not turn to look at Chase.

Leaning forward ever so slightly for a better view of the pile, Chase did indeed see a box among the effects—fairly small and made of wood. "Hmm. And what is _in _the box?"

Shoulders conspicuously stiff, Jack shrugged. "Nothing important. Just some stuff."

"Really?"

"Yeah," and here Jack made his second mistake in making eye contact with his master.

_Liar, liar, liar._

Chase raised an eyebrow at Jack, refusing to break his stare. All the while, Jack said absolutely nothing, maintaining a very poor poker face. Holding Jack's eyes, Chase took one step off the bed.

Immediately, Jack's façade broke and he hurled himself on top of the mystery box with a panicked cry of, "No, don't!"

Well, that answered that.

Chase casually sauntered over to the pile, staring down at his consort who was looking quite guilty indeed draped over the box.

"How _unimportant _the things in that chest must be," he mused sardonically.

Jack tried a sheepish smile which dissolved quickly when he realized that Chase was having none of it. He sighed. "I…have to show you what's in it now, don't I?"

"Yes, I would say so."

Jack sat back, pulling the incriminating box into his lap as he did so. Looking at it, he made a face. "Oh, god, this is embarrassing."

Chase frowned. "What is?"

"Well…this box is…um."

"Do spit it out, Spicer."

"It's yours," Jack blurted out.

Chase blinked at him. "What?"

"It sort of is, anyway," Jack tried to clarify. "I mean, everything in here is, uh…well, _yours._But this is from way before we got together, so it's not—"

With a raised hand, Chase cut him off. "Are you saying that you _stole _from me?"

"No!" Jack quickly denied. "I'd never steal anything from you! Even back then…_especially _back then, I knew what a death sentence that would be. This is just…stuff you didn't want anymore."

"_Tell _me you didn't go through my trash, Spicer."

"Only one time! I'm not _that _much of a freak, really. Besides, what would I want with your garbage?"

Still somewhat baffled and with what could very well be a migraine coming on, Chase pinched the bridge of his nose and sat on the floor beside Jack. Gesturing with his other hand, he instructed, "Open it."

Mortification and his overlord's command seemed to have cowed Jack well enough, for he opened the chest without any further complaint.

Looking inside, Chase was beyond relieved to see nothing that disgusted or horrified him. True to Jack's word, the box did not contain any genuine articles of trash and instead featured more mundane items—a few discarded candle stubs here, some scraps of clothing likely worn into vicious Showdowns there, and a few photographs of him taken on the sly for good measure.

While it was a bit odd, it was hardly as creepy as he had expected.

Reaching out and idly picking through the chest and its contents, Chase wondered, "Why do you still have all this, Jack? Is the real thing not good enough for you?"

Jack balked at even the implication of such a thing. "Are you kidding? You're _way_ more than 'good enough,' Chase! I told you, this was from before…y'know, _us._ When I didn't _have _the real thing."

To that, Chase merely made a noise of acknowledgment, his focus suddenly on one item in particular that had caught his eye. It was the metallic glint of it that had gotten his attention, for he so rarely interacted with metals and this was neither the bronze of his armor nor the iron of his spear.

Bringing it closer, Chase saw that it was made of silver but could glean nothing else beyond that. It was simply too small, too bent and crumpled to determine its original shape or what it had once been part of.

"What is this?" he asked of his consort. "I don't recognize it as anything of mine."

Jack's face fell at the sight of it. "Oh. Yeah, that'd be because it never actually ended up in your possession."

"And what do you mean by that?"

Jack took the scrap of metal from Chase, turning it over in his hands with a look that bordered on mournful. "Believe it or not," he said, "this used to be a gear."

Chase stared at it some more, but even that definitive statement could not reconcile with this hideously mangled thing in his mind. It still looked nothing _like_ a gear, and for that matter, "Why would _I _have been in possession of a gear? Technology is your field, Jack."

"Well, yeah, I _made _it," Jack said. "It was part of a gift for you, but…you didn't want it."

And quite abruptly, Chase was provided with a flash of memory—himself snarling hateful things at a younger Jack and maliciously crushing a small contraption to bits in his fist.

"Ah, yes," he said out loud, taking the item back from his consort. "Really, it's destroyed beyond all recognition: I should have known my own handiwork. What was it? Before it met its end, I mean."

Jack half-smirked at him. "Y'know the Wu detector I gave you about a week after you made me your apprentice?"

Chase nodded.

"Well, _that,_" Jack declared, pointing at the scrap of metal, "was part of the prototype."

Despite himself, the dragonlord chuckled. "You unimaginative sneak. You gave me the same gift twice?"

Jack grinned unapologetically. "Hey, the first time, you didn't even let me explain what it was so I could give it to you! You seemed pretty pleased with it the second time around, though, so I can't imagine why you'd have cut me off."

Chase set the 'gear' back in the box. "I was irritated with you," he said. "Normally, I might not have turned your gift away as…harshly as I did, but you were being your usual, excessively insistent self that day. You wouldn't take no for an answer and I felt compelled to remind you that I am Chase Young and I may say no to anything I wish."

Jack winced a bit, but conceded, "Yeah, alright, that's fair. I _was _pretty pushy back then, wasn't I?"

"Yes," Chase agreed without hesitation. "In your youth, you pursued me _very_ aggressively. In fact, that was one of the things I found most repellent about your advances—that you weren't _asking._"

Seeing Jack's expression torn between contrition and embarrassment, Chase added, "You've moved beyond that stage admirably, though. I cannot say now that I feel at all pressured by you or your attentions."

Chase then leaned over to kiss his consort, a brief show of his own affection before pulling away. "Although, I would like to see just what it is you slipped into your pocket just now."

Jack looked at him as if he'd been struck. "I can't get _anything _past you, can I?"

Chase snorted. "Clearly, I had no cause to worry. You're performing the Captain's duties well, my young replacement."

Jack drooped and reached back into his coat pocket to retrieve the item he'd tried to hide.

"Really, Spicer," Chase said with a roll of his eyes, "I don't know why you thought _this_ attempt at keeping something from me would work after the first attempt went _so_ well for y—…is that a lock of my _hair_?"

Jack blushed, eyes looking everywhere _but _the few strands of black-green hair tied with a red silk string and taking up little more than an inch of space on his palm. "Y…well, I…y-yeah."

Chase took it from him, staring in disbelief. "How did you even _get_ this?" It went unsaid that his long, beautiful hair was an immense source of pride for Chase and that anyone attempting to damage it—or _take_ it—would have had _consequences _to face.

Jack's cheeks darkened even further and he all but mumbled, "Sh…Shard of Lightning…"

A flicker of elemental power from Chase and the lock was consumed in a small jet of flame, leaving only a puff smoke behind.

Jack watched as his overlord laid a hand over his eyes, looking very irritated indeed. Warily, he asked, "Are you mad?"

Processing the situation, Chase growled. "I _should_ be! You took my _hair_!"

"…but?"

At Jack's hopeful tone, Chase sighed. "But…you didn't take _much_…and you did it in such a way that my appearance was undamaged if even _I_didn't notice it was done. And as you said yourself, this is from many years ago, so I suppose the statute of limitations has passed on this."

Jack released a breath he'd been holding, clearly relieved.

"That does _not,_however," Chase declared, "mean that I am alright with the fact that you did it."

"Okay, that makes two of us." At the look he received from Chase, Jack scowled. "What, do you think I like remembering what a stalker I was? Does it _look _like I'm over here having 'fond memories' of all the times I creeped on you?"

"No," Chase conceded, "it doesn't."

Chase's relatively placid tone was enough to ease Jack's scowl into a mere frown. Red eyes closed as Jack tried to gather his thoughts.

"It's just…it's embarrassing looking back on some of the stuff I did then, but at the same time…I was _in love_ with you even then, Chase, and you were so _against_ it. I didn't really think it'd ever be more than a one-sided thing, so…I didn't _care _if I was being annoying or creepy. It didn't even…occur to me to think about it."

Knowing his consort's admirable tendency to throw himself wholeheartedly into everything he did, Chase nodded in understanding. "In fairness, I do not believe you would have been nearly so obsessive if my rejections of you hadn't closed off the normal avenues. I take whatever blame is to be had for that."

Jack stared at Chase for a moment as if he didn't know him. "_Chase Young,_admitting fault of some kind? This is one for the record books."

Chase managed a scoff and a smirk at the same time. "You and I know from our current relationship that we're more than compatible. If there was something keeping us _both _from realizing that, the fault cannot lie with only one party. As the saying goes, it takes two to tango, Jack."

At that, Jack smiled a bit. "Hey, I'm just glad I've got somebody to tango _with, _now," he joked, "'cause for awhile there, I was looking like an idiot dancing by myself."

"Not anymore," Chase assured him, punctuating the statement with a hand on Jack's shoulder and appreciating their easy back-and-forth. "However, if I discover that you stole underwear from me as well, you may find yourself without a dance partner for a night or two."

Jack laughed. "No, I never went after your panties," he assured. "A little birdie warned me some of 'em were booby-trapped. I only ever got one whole item of clothing off you," he said, reaching back into the chest to find it, "and you handed _this _over willingly, so you can't get mad at me."

Chase saw the article Jack removed and recognized the crumpled silken glove immediately, discolored and stiff as it was from the dried blood that had soaked into it.

"Yes," he said softly, "I _did _tell you to keep that, but I had thought you would have discarded it once you'd stopped bleeding."

Jack grinned at him. "Are you kidding?" he asked. "That was a momentous day: you saved my life _and _told me you didn't want me to be dead. That sure as hell warrants a souvenir."

Chase did not return the smile. "You already _have _a souvenir, though," he pointed out, smoothly reaching over to the column of Jack's throat and allowing his fingers to lightly brush across the faint pink scar to be found there.

The day the goth had gotten that mark was one Chase remembered particularly well. Possibly because it was the day that Jack Spicer was nearly cut out of his life—literally.

It had been a routine enough Showdown, Jack doing poorly against the monks as usual. Considering that _he _had not even been a part of the battle, Chase wasn't sure why he'd been there in the first place, but it was a good thing that he was.

About midway through, one of Spicer's robots began to malfunction. Years later, Jack would tell him that it could have been caused by any number of things, including water damage, overheated circuits, eroded parts, or even too much dust in its processor. In short, any _one _of the monks could have been responsible but the 'who' didn't matter so much as the 'what.'

_What _had happened was the automaton's explosion, simultaneously deafening everyone on the scene and activating their tiger instincts to help them duck and cover to avoid the projectiles of shrapnel shot in all directions.

Jack, of course, had no tiger instincts to speak of.

It had been a very near thing. For Chase, it had been only a split second of seeing Spicer; seeing the large, almost flat bit of metal hurtling towards him and knowing that in another second, Jack would be personally acquainted with the concept of the guillotine.

Thankfully, Chase had not paused even a moment more to question the motives of his actions and had simply teleported to Jack's side, hauling him out of the sharp metal's trajectory. Even _with _Chase's superhuman speed, Jack still ended up nicked by the thing and had a scar the length of his pinky to prove it.

Jack shivered with loss as his overlord took back his hand. One of his own took its place and he thoughtfully traced the line it made with his thumb. "Y'know," he said slowly, unknowingly echoing Chase's thoughts, "if you hadn't been there, I'd have probably lost my head that day. Did I ever say thanks?"

"You did," Chase assured him. "When I had that glove pressed against your neck to slow the bleeding and I told you that you weren't going to die— you thanked me then."

Jack didn't really remember much of that part. From the moment he'd felt the sharp slash of pain in such a typically fatal area until the time he somehow found himself at home with his medbot telling him it was too shallow to even need stitches, Jack's brain had been saturated with pure shock. The time in between that wasn't outright lost was fuzzy at best.

"I don't remember saying it," he confessed, "so thanks again for saving me." Realizing what he'd just said, Jack paused and looked at Chase. "I never asked why you did that. We weren't…close then, so…why did you?"

Of course, this was a question Chase was well-prepared to take. After all, he'd asked it of himself many times and he had eventually come up with a satisfactory answer.

"As I told you that day, I didn't want you to be dead," he explained. "As much as your failures and your oddities and your _obsession _with me grated at times…you were still too interesting."

Jack was clearly confused. "Interesting?"

Chase nodded. "Your coloring, your unique personal quirks, your ability with machines… In short, you were and are a source of fascination for me and I could see your potential for evil given time and training. I had no designs on you at that time as my consort _or _my apprentice, but I knew that I didn't want you gone from the world just then."

Trying and failing to suppress a smile, Jack did his best to steer the conversation in a less sappy direction. "Well, that makes sense, I guess. I _am _pretty awesome—it'd be weird if you weren't into me even a little bit."

Chase shook his head. "'Awesome' _and_ modest," he mused teasingly. "How could I _not _fall madly in love with you?"

Jack snickered at his own expense, even as he threw the bloodied silk at his master's head.

Naturally, Chase caught it without trouble and inspected the ruined glove against its pristine successor, dark green contrasted with an unpleasantly brownish-green.

"Actually," he said at length, "I believe that day _did _play a role in our relationship."

"Really? How so?"

"What you said _after _you thanked me," Chase clarified. "Or do you not remember that, either?"

"…uh. No, I don't. Why?" Jack asked cautiously. "What'd I say?"

"That was the first time you told me you loved me."

Another thing Chase found nearly impossible to forget about that day. Really, how could he? He had been flooded with a strange relief he hadn't yet understood that no vital arteries of Spicer's had been struck and Jack had chosen that moment to lean on his idol and babble on and on of his gratitude.

Most of it had been incoherent from the teen's shock, but Chase very distinctly heard, "Oh my god, I thought I was gonna die, thank you, I love you so much," amongst the rest of the rapid-fire nonsense.

At this new information, however, Jack made a face, feeling every bit of retroactive embarrassment for admitting such a thing before it had become acceptable to do so—and not even realizing he'd done it.

Out loud, he just said, "Oh. How exactly did _that_ change anything? I was in love with you before that and you _can't _tell me I was too subtle about it."

Chase snorted. "No, the last thing you are is subtle, but up until then, you'd never said the words."

"So?"

"So, how was I to know that your feelings went beyond an obsession or a mere crush?" the dragonlord challenged. "Either would've fit with your behavior at that time, but when you _said _it…"

"What," Jack asked, tone already sarcastic, "it changed everything? Me saying that I loved you made you decide that I was hot sex on toast and that we should totally hook up?"

Chase echoed his consort's disdain for such a simplistic, fairy tale concept with a scoff. "Hardly. But it _did _give me things to consider."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that if you were genuinely in love with me, I could make use of you in some way."

"…_tell _me you weren't planning on making me a booty-call," Jack pled.

Not having expected _quite_ that term to come from his consort's mouth, Chase was unable to hold back a bark of laughter. "There are many uses for a young man who loves you, Jack," he explained, "not _all _of them sexual. For me to determine which of those uses was best for you specifically, I had to take a much closer look at you than I had in our prior interactions."

"And…you liked what you saw?" the goth guessed.

"Of course," said Chase. "You're a surprisingly likable individual, Spicer: no matter how annoying you get, it's difficult to completely _hate _you. What I was getting at, though, is the fact that the things I deemed to be flaws in you weren't as irredeemable as I'd thought upon closer inspection."

For a long time in their acquaintance, Chase had simply dismissed Spicer as unworthy of his attention. As a consequence, he had never looked beyond the veneer of the young man's exterior; his _actions._As he quickly found out, Jack was not a book to be judged only by his cover.

Spicer's skill in martial arts (or _any _form of combat) had been downright dismal and Chase had initially sneered to see he was making no effort to improve himself in that area.

He hadn't known then just how mind-bogglingly _delicate _Jack's albino body could be, turning any attempt at training into a terribly painful and exceedingly long process that the average teacher didn't have the skill or patience to handle.

Neither had Chase realized that Jack's frequent betrayal of his allies was an act born out of his experience. Jack had been essentially _taught _that the proper way to end a partnership was with a double-cross and his teachers had been everyone in his life he had made the mistake of trusting: the monks, Wuya, Katnappé, and a succession of other villains before Chase had even arrived on the scene all regularly took advantage of Spicer. His 'genius' title was not for nothing, though, and Jack had learned the lesson quickly.

Really, _most_ of Spicer's worst traits were a product of his environment. Even the loud projections of his own greatness and nonexistent accomplishments that Chase had found _so _very irritating had a root in the actions of others.

No one, whether Xiaolin or Heylin, had any qualms with verbally criticizing Jack and putting him down right to his face and despite the size of it, Jack's ego was fragile. He needed _some _kind of boost to keep his self-esteem from being outright crushed and his bragging turned out to do the trick perfectly.

Amusingly enough, it was precisely Jack's bragging and undeserved smugness that made so many people want to wipe the grin off his face and in response, Jack would only get more and more arrogant—a vicious circle if ever there was one.

"When I removed my own prejudices from the equation," Chase declared aloud, "I realized that you weren't the sniveling worm destined for eternal failure that I'd pegged you for. You could be taught. You could change. You could _grow._" He offered Jack a grin. "Looking at you now, I see I was absolutely right to conclude that."

Jack knew as well as Chase did that he had definitely blossomed under his master's tutelage, as a fighter _and_ as a villain. "Well, once you started teaching me, you didn't give up on me," he shrugged, _almost _modest for once, "no matter how many times I cried or needed to take a break."

"I am nothing if not patient," agreed Chase, "though if anyone can try me in that area, it is you."

"Hey, low blow!" Jack chuckled. "I got better at not doing that!"

Chase feigned surprised, intent on teasing his lover more. "_Did _you? When was this? I hadn't noticed."

Jack nodded to the glove the warlord still held in his hand. "I started the same day _you _stopped brushing me off."

At that statement, something like surprise came over Chase's face, to which Jack wondered, "Did you really not notice? I toned down the stalking a _lot _after that."

Chase shook his head. "It did not escape me that you visited a bit less frequently and didn't unnerve me quite as much with your affections, but you seem to be speaking of something else."

Jack shrugged. "I told you, when I thought you hated me the…_way_ that I tried to show you that I loved you was…well, pretty selfish. I didn't really stop to think about how the stuff I did affected you, I just did what _I_ wanted to do. Partly because I never thought _we _would go anywhere."

"But?" Chase prompted.

"But," continued Jack, "that day…you saved my life. Not only that, you outright _told_ me that you didn't want me to be dead. I mean, obviously, it wasn't quite the same as screaming your eternal love for me from the rooftops, but it meant that you didn't _hate _me as much as I thought you did and that if I played my cards right, I might have the slightest shot in hell at making that go somewhere."

Intrigued, Chase eyed his consort consideringly. "You changed your tactics. How?"

Jack shot him a mischievous little smile. "How else do you seduce an overlord? I changed my focus: less _me_-centric, more _you_-centric." Sensing that Chase could do with a little more explanation than that, he posed, "Alright, so you know I'm a really hands-on kind of guy, right?"

"Hard to miss _that,_" said Chase. "You're possibly the most tactile person I've ever met. Any more 'hands-on' and I'd need to carry around a crowbar just to pry you off of me."

"But I'm not as bad with that as I used to be."

Chase agreed. "No, definitely not. It's been years at least since I last had to actually physically remove you from me." He paused, then turned to look at Jack. "_That _is what you meant? You made an effort to stop touching me overly much?"

"That's part of it," Jack said. "I show a lot of my…affection for you, I guess, by touching you—because that's what _I_ want to do every time I see you. But when I paid a little more attention to _you,_ I realized that you don't really like to _be _touched so much, so I tried to back off a little."

Chase allowed his hand to settle just above his consort's shoulder blades, idly stroking his fingers up and down along his spine. "Don't take it personally, Jack," he said, his voice low. "That rule does not apply specifically to you. I simply don't enjoy physical contact. For the most part, if I am open to being touched, _I _will initiate the touching."

Jack shivered as, to punctuate his point, Chase's hand strayed particularly low on his back, dipping _just _below the waistband of his black jeans and teasingly going no further.

In response, Jack scooted over a little closer to Chase, pressing himself up against the older man's side and boldly kissing him on the mouth. Chase himself gave no protest to the action and in fact, shifted his hand to Jack's hip in order to drag him even closer.

Eventually, Jack pulled away. "It took me awhile to figure that part out, but I think I've pretty much got the hang of it now."

"Yes, I would say so," his master concurred, lowering Jack to the stone floor and leaning over him. The long, dark curtain of Chase's hair blocked out mostly everything else in the room, quite assuring that the goth's only focus was _him._ "I am _very _comfortable with the way you touch me, Jack…"

Jack felt his skin prickling, not certain if it was from the cold of the floor against his back or the smoky heat in the voice of the man looming over him. "I'm pretty okay with how you touch me, too."

Chase smiled down at him, a devilishly handsome thing that had once meant very bad things for Jack. More recently, however, it had taken on the exact opposite meaning.

Jack made a quiet noise of pleasure as Chase lowered his head to his lover's sensitive throat, pressing his lips to the old scar. He happily relaxed and enjoyed the mouthing and nuzzling for as long as Chase chose to keep it up.

"I seem to recall," the warlord abruptly murmured against his collarbone, "that speaking with you ceased to give me headaches. Was that part of your strategy to woo me, as well?"

It took Jack a moment to answer, especially as he noticed that one of Chase's hands was definitely sliding up beneath his shirt. "Uh…yeah, kind of… I like talking to you about…well, um. Everything. But you're a really pragmatic kind of guy."

"I don't like wasting my time," Chase purred, stroking his gloved fingers over Jack's ticklish ribs just to watch him jump. The squeak that came out of him was just a bonus.

"Well, _yeah,_" Jack agreed, letting his hands find purchase on Chase's powerful hips, just beneath the armor skirting. "You're…you're no-nonsense, so I stopped talking about it to you. You didn't act so pissed off with me once I started talking to you about…y'know, important stuff."

Chase had to hold himself back from laughing. Truly, Jack was fantastic for his ego: a few sensual touches here and there and the youth's frighteningly genius brain was already starting to short out.

Instead of laughing, he shifted to properly straddle Jack's hips and continued to trace idle patterns across his chest and stomach with his free hand while he kept the other on the floor to hold himself above his lover.

"I enjoy our conversations much more now that they have substance," he said. "It reminds me what a brilliant young man I have accepted as mine."

Jack flushed such a pretty pink color at the compliment that Chase simply _had _to touch him.

Chase's gloved hand was cool upon his warm cheek and Jack stared up at him, absolutely mesmerized for a moment.

Sometimes, it still baffled him that this amazing, powerful, _beautiful_ man was his lover; had willingly chosen him to touch and protect and _keep._

He was so glad he hadn't fucked this up before it even started. So, _so _glad he had backed off before it was too late.

Chase had apparently realized he was distracted for the fingers on his cheek became a hand cupping his jaw.

"What are you thinking of, Spicer?" Chase wondered.

Jack told him. "I was just…thinking how lucky I am to have this with you. How lucky I am that you decided to really _look_at me…and that I didn't drive you away before you did."

Chase looked at him curiously. "Drive me away?"

Jack nodded. "With all of the…the stuff I used to do. I was so pushy about trying to get you to… I mean, I _loved_ you and I wanted to hear it back so desperately, but you…you _hate_ being pushed." An underlying note of fear that smacked of having survived a near miss entered Jack's tone. "If I didn't back off to let _you _decide whether you wanted anything between us to happen…"

Chase cut him off with a kiss. "I _did_ decide, Spicer," he rumbled upon pulling back, fixing Jack with a stern look. "You are my consort—_mine._That speaks well enough of my decision, doesn't it?"

This seemed to reassure Jack some. "But…doesn't it freak you out a little? To think about how _easily_ none of this could have happened? If you just went on thinking I was an annoying pest or if I kept being selfish, we would've _stayed _that way."

"I don't like wasting my time," Chase said again. "'What If's are just that when compared to reality: wastes of time. And in reality, I have an attractive young man under me begging to be named my _xin ái _and taken to bed…"

Jack's relief may very well have been strong enough to turn his bones to jelly on the spot, but he managed a glance over and up at his bed. As he'd suspected, the tertiary pile of junk from his closet was still taking up half of the mattress (the half Chase had not been occupying).

"It looks like my bed's a little crowded right now," he said sheepishly. "I guess I could finish with the closet first…"

Chase, however, had no intention of being derailed and shook his head. "Your bed is not the only one in the palace, Jack, and your closet can wait." His smirk was downright playful. "After all, you have eternity to get around to it…"

For that reminder, Jack couldn't help but lean up and gleefully kiss his everlord again, content to leave the past in the past and live in what was a particularly satisfying present.

_**Cherry-**_

"…oh, fuck _off._"

"Don't swear at me, Jack, I just asked you a question!"

"You're fifteen," Jack snapped, "you can handle the word, 'fuck.' As in, fucking _hell,_ Megan, you're fifteen, not _ten_!"

Megan rolled her eyes. "You act like I just told you I wanted to play Princesses and Unicorns with you."

"Unicorns are _cool,_ at least!" her cousin exclaimed, indignant. "You're asking to put _make-up_on me!"

"Suyin has a date _tomorrow_ and she wants me to help her get ready," Megan explained. "I've never done someone _else's _make-up before!"

"All the more reason for me to say no!" Jack declared. "You want to girlify me _and _it'll look stupid."

"Jack," she all but whined, "_please_! I never ask you for anything!"

"What? Yes, you do!"

"Well, not that often! Come on, Jack," said Megan, "Suyin is really pale and all of my other friends are too dark to practice on. I _need _you!"

Jack made a noise somewhere in between a groan and a growl. "Megan…have you ever heard of the concept of 'male pride'?"

Megan blinked. "Sure I have. What's that got to do with you?"

Jack flinched and covered his face with his palm. "Okay, comments like that? _Not _helping your case!"

"Alright, alright, alright, I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. "I really _do _need your help. Just…let me do this and I won't ask you for anything for a whole month. I won't make it really girly if that's your problem. I just need to see if I can do it…"

Jack looked at her and sighed, feeling a crashing wave of regret for all the times he'd taught Megan the various arts of pity and puppy-dog eyes in the hopes that she would use them for evil. On some level, she had—_this _was pretty evil.

"I must be crazy," he muttered under his breath.

Megan heard him and perked immediately. "Really, Jack? You'll do it?" She tackled him into a hug, squeezing him tightly in gratitude. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Jack's big, calloused hands gripped her by the shoulders and pushed her back. Megan blinked up at him, surprised by the suddenly stern look he was giving her.

"No lipstick," Jack began firmly, "no mascara, and no matter _what,_ you are _not _touching my hair."

Megan nodded.

The sternness dissolved from Jack's expression at her assent, melting back into the more familiar look of surrender. "Alright, fine. We'll do it in my bathroom so I can wash it off when you're done. Get your stuff."

Megan promptly grabbed her make-up bag and scurried after Jack, who was already trudging out of the room like a man to the firing squad.

She followed him upstairs and to his room, which was thankfully not as gross as her expectations for a boy's room. Some of his stuff was a little gothy and it was kind of messy, but Jack was into that kind of thing and really, she was the last one to talk about messy rooms.

At the very least, she was relieved not to have to sidestep any moist socks on the floor on the way to the room's adjoining bathroom.

The bathroom itself was done in monochrome. The floor tiles were of a typical checkerboard pattern while most of the walls were pure white save for one black accent wall where the large sink and mirror were set up. On the opposite end of the room were the toilet, a trash bin, and a laundry hamper while the far wall played host to a large shower with a frosted glass door.

Megan had to stop herself from admitting jealously out loud. She would _love_ to get ready for the day in a clean, spacious, _private_ bathroom like this instead of the one she shared with her parents. She already knew what Jack would say if she mentioned it, though, because he'd said it several times before: a casual and absolutely pitiless, "Maybe Aunt Eva should have married a rich bastard like _my _mom did."

…to which she would inevitably reply that _her_ mother wasn't a gold-digger like Auntie Sylvia, which _always _set Jack off and Megan had yet to get any of her make-up on him, so that was right out.

Instead, she went the route of a backhanded compliment. "_This_ is your bathroom, Jack?" she asked. "It's practically _classy._"

Jack snorted and wandered over to the mirror that doubled as a cabinet, fishing around inside. "I'm plenty classy," he said as he looked for something. "It just doesn't come up much."

"Eating potato chips on the couch and scratching your butt don't leave much room for the expression of class, no," she agreed.

Jack paused his search to glare at her. "I _told _you, I only do that on Saturday!"

"For the Saturday morning cartoons?"

"Yes!" Jack exclaimed, sounding exasperated as he decisively resumed rummaging around in the cabinet.

Deciding her cousin wouldn't take much more pushing before calling the whole thing off, Megan wisely chose to stop teasing him. "So, what are you looking for anyway?"

"Remover," said Jack, looking almost bewildered as he stared at the myriad of things in his mirror cabinet. "I need it to get my eyeliner off, but I can't find it."

"Can't you just wash it off?" Megan wondered, glancing at the thick black hook beneath Jack's eye.

"No, it's waterproof," he explained. "Like…_really_ waterproof. I'd probably get my _skin _off first just using the sink."

"Why not switch to something easier to get off?"

Jack shook his head. "I don't _want _it off, that was the problem. It kept running and getting all messed up—"

"Too much crying?" she couldn't resist asking.

"—because it was too water soluble," Jack finished with another glare at her, this one a warning. Normally, Megan didn't take such glares seriously when they came from _Jack, _but for some reason, she felt compelled to back down. "Anyway, if you want to put stuff on my face, I figured you'd want a blank canvas first."

"That would be helpful." Megan watched as Jack looked through the cabinet one more time, clearly aggravated that the desired item wasn't anywhere to be seen. "Check the drawers," she suggested, pointing at the two rows of drawers beneath the sink.

Jack frowned. "I don't keep it there."

"Check anyway, it can't hurt."

Jack did so, grumbling as he pulled open the very top drawer. "It's not gonna be—…" Jack scowled deeply at a small spray bottle he pulled out from the miscellany. "What the _fuck_?" he demanded. "I _never _put it here!"

"Maybe you have bathroom gnomes," his cousin proposed.

The look Jack shot her was downright murderous.

"Kidding!" said Megan, hands raised in a gesture of harmlessness. "Just kidding. I misplace stuff in the bathroom all the time. I think my hair dryer can teleport or something."

Jack paused, looking as though he were trying to remember something. "When was the last time I was over at _your _house?" he eventually asked.

Megan stared at him. "What does that have to do with—"

"When?" Jack insisted.

"Uh, like, four years ago, I think. Why?"

"Oh, well, I didn't figure out how to build stuff that teleports even short distances until _two _years ago," he clarified, spritzing a bit of remover onto a tissue and wiping beneath his right eye. "I just wanted to know if I did it or not."

Megan watched him switch to the left eye and smoothly wipe away all trace of the curved mark in one go, leaving no stains or smudges and only clean white skin behind.

"So, you're capable of building teleporting hair dryers?" she asked.

"If I wanted to, yeah."

"You're a genius, Jack," she deadpanned, "you must use your amazing powers for good."

Jack laughed. "No chance," he said. "Evil all the way!"

"Right, evil," said Megan, unzipping her make-up bag and setting it on the back of the toilet. "How's that whole, 'take over the world' thing going for you, Jackie?"

"That's classified," Jack told her. "I've got some things in the works, but a leak might compromise me so that's all I can tell you."

Shaking her head, the girl put down the toilet seat and gestured that Jack should come over and sit. "Well, if you want to waste your time with all that, I guess that's your business," she decided.

"Damn right it is," Jack agreed, having a seat and turning his head to eye the menacing bag behind him. "I meant what I said, Megan," he reminded. "If you put lipstick on me…"

"I won't!" Megan assured him. "No lipstick, no mascara, and leave your hair alone. I _heard _you."

To that, Jack said nothing, watching his cousin sort through her supplies.

Eventually, Megan removed a few identical rectangular compacts. Seeing her open one, Jack realized that they were all probably different shades of blush.

"This has gotta be the hardest thing," Megan mused aloud, closing one and opening another. "You're so _white _and I have to find a color that won't look ridiculous on your cheeks."

"If you've got a problem with it, get another guinea pig," Jack sniped.

"No, I told you, Suyin's pale, too, so I need that. I mean, she's not as pale as you, obviously—she's like, normal pale."

Jack stared. "What does that make me, _weird _pale?"

Megan gave him a look. "Jack…you're an albino. _That's _not normal pale and you know it."

Jack frowned, but knew he couldn't refute that. He watched Megan look at a few more shades of blush, discarding all the dark and medium colors and even a few lighter ones before finally settling on a very faint hue of pinkish peach.

"This one should _probably_ work alright," she decided, swirling a brush around over the powder and tapping it lightly to shake off the excess. "Tell me if I'm hurting you or something, by the way. I _am _trying to practice my method here."

"Trust me, I'll be the first to tell you if you're doing it wrong," said Jack before relaxing his face of any expression and closing his eyes.

In spite of her general abrasiveness (to Jack, anyway), Megan proved to be very gentle in her application of the blush. She used smooth, light strokes across his cheekbones to spread the color evenly without irritating his sensitive skin. When she wanted him to move his head, she wouldn't just grab his face and move it like he had seen some make-up artists do, either. Instead, she touched his chin to indicate that he should move and then allowed him to do it on his own.

What Jack appreciated perhaps most of all, though, was that she wasn't _talking _anymore. Maybe she realized that if she kept antagonizing her dear cousin, he would scowl or try to yell at her and mess up her process. Whatever the reason, Jack was glad for the silence that made this whole situation far more bearable.

After a few minutes, Megan stopped and put the brush down. Jack opened his eyes and looked over at her. "Well?"

Megan made a noise of consideration. "It's not bad," she said after another moment of inspection. "I think it might look _better _on you if I'd had a lighter shade, but it looks fine as is. This should be perfect for Suyin."

"So, do I get to see it, or are you gonna make me wait for a big reveal at the end movie-makeover style?" Jack wondered.

Busying herself with putting away the blush and digging around for the next item, the girl idly plucked a small mirror out of her bag and handed it over. "Knock yourself out."

Jack took the mirror, bracing himself to somehow already look like a failed Monty Python cross-dressing skit. When he worked up the courage to look at his reflection, however, he relaxed.

"Oh," he said out loud. "Okay, I guess it's not horrible."

And horrible it wasn't. Yes, there was an unnatural bit of color on his cheeks, but it didn't _look_ unnatural. The shade Megan had picked wasn't too outrageous in comparison to his (admittedly _beyond _fair) skin tone and she had applied it in such a way that it might not even be taken for make-up on him.

A stranger could probably look at him and think he was just a little flushed from some kind of physical activity or something.

"You're good at doing blush, I'll give you that, Meg," he declared. "Hopefully, you don't suck at the other stuff."

"Hopefully, I won't," she said with a pointed look, "and _don't_ call me 'Meg,' _Jackie._"

"Yeah, yeah," shrugged Jack. "What are you gonna put on me now?"

Megan held up a black stick. "Eyeliner. Much as I hate to say it, you've got the right idea: that dark around your eyes makes them pop, the darker the better to stand out against the rest of your face."

"…Holy _god,_ was that a _compliment_?"

"Not really," said Megan. "The _idea_ is right, but your execution is way off. You wear way too much and I _don't _just mean the weird hook-thing you do."

"And the world has righted itself," Jack announced, looking less than thrilled. "Okay, Eyeliner Queen, what _should _I be doing?"

Megan uncapped the eyeliner, screwing it up to a length she found satisfactory. "Less is more. You should just do a thin outline and leave it at that. Anymore and it gets garish."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, alright. I'll do that the next time I'm going for 'pretty.' As it is, I _want _to look a little garish, or did you forget that I'm evil?"

She rolled her eyes. "So, being evil means you have to wear brightly colored goggles and a tattered trench coat and draw lines all over your face?"

"In my case, yes!" Jack set the mirror aside, no longer needing it. "I need _some_ kind of intimidation factor. You know I don't have a whole lot going for me naturally, so I have to at least _look_ a little creepy. Nobody good would wear any of that stuff—and besides, I like it, so _there._"

Megan stared at him. "_Which _one of us is the older cousin again?"

"Oh, shut up," Jack demanded. "Just do my eyeliner already."

Placing her hand on Jack's chin to hold his head still, Megan waited until Jack closed his eyes and began doing just that. She was especially slow and careful with her movements here, knowing how delicate the eyes and the surrounding skin could be.

Jack did his best to keep from moving, but relaxing was another thing entirely because for this part, Megan decided to talk.

"So, what's going on with you lately?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, what have you been doing the past couple of days or weeks or whatever?"

"I told you," he repeated, "my plans are classified. I can't tell you anything."

"Not _plans,_" Megan clarified, sounding exasperated. "Your personal life! You do have one, don't you?"

Jack wanted to frown, but managed to refrain. "Yeah, I have a personal life!" he said.

"Then what's going on it?"

"I dunno," Jack grumbled, "that's a stupid question. Be more specific."

"Fine," said Megan. "Are you dating anyone?"

Jack nearly jumped. "What?"

"_Dating,_" Megan repeated purposely slow. "Seeing somebody? You know, like another person that you go out with?"

"I _know _what dating is," Jack snapped.

"Okay, so are you doing it? You're eighteen, you've _gotta _be dating somebody by now."

"_Nine_teen," he corrected her, "and of course, I'm dating!"

"Really?" asked Megan. "What's her name?"

Jack hesitated. "I'm…not at liberty to say."

"Uh-huh." Even with his eyes closed, Jack could hear the dubious, perhaps outright disbelieving tone Megan had adopted.

"I _am _seeing someone," he insisted. "I'm not just making it up!"

"Alright, then where'd you meet?"

"At a Showdown."

Megan frowned in distaste. "It's not that ghost chick that used to follow you around all the time, is it?"

"Wuya?" Jack shuddered. "_Hell _no."

"That Asian girl you had a huge crush on?"

"I did _not _have a huge crush on Kimiko," Jack said firmly, "and even I did, it's still not her."

"Then, who is it?" she wondered.

"It doesn't matter, you haven't met, anyway."

Megan pouted. "Fine, don't tell me her name, but you have to tell me something."

"Why?"

"I wanna know!" the girl said as if it were obvious. "Tell me about her or what she looks like or where you took her on a date; _something_!"

"I don't want to. You're being nosy. I don't bug you about _your _love life!" Jack abruptly felt one of Megan's bare thumbs on his eyelid, stroking outward. "What are you doing now?"

"I'm smearing the liner on the top a little. It gives it a smoky look and it's better than doing eye shadow," she explained. "Why are you being so impossible about details? Is your girlfriend ugly or something? Does she embarrass you?"

"No, that's not…! I mean…_no, _it's not that. Can't I just not feel comfortable about discussing my sex life with my fifteen-year-old cousin?"

"Oh, you have a sex life?" Megan grinned, pulling back to inspect her handiwork. "_That's _interesting."

Jack, realizing his mistake, wanted nothing more than to bury his face in his hands. Since he couldn't do that, he opened his eyes and looked at Megan. "Are you done with the eyeliner?" he demanded, staunchly refusing to acknowledge his earlier slip.

Megan apparently decided to let it go, for she only giggled and handed Jack the mirror again.

More than glad for the distraction, Jack once again eyed his reflection and once again, his cousin had done a decent job of things. She really _did _have a point about less being more as far as the 'attractive' side of things went. Even the thin outline on the bottom proved enough to make his eyes stand out and the top lids didn't look overly girly with the smear of black on them.

With his eyes and the blush, Jack was _almost_ tempted to call himself pretty (_man_-pretty, naturally, not _girl_-pretty).

"Okay, great," he announced, "you passed cheek and eye make-up. Now can I take this off, already?"

"I'm not done with you yet, Jack!" 'tsk'ed Megan. "There's still one more thing I need to make sure I can do."

Jack stared at her warily. "And what's that?"

Megan grabbed her bag and began to rummage around in it again. "Lip make-up, of course."

Jack _scowled_ at her. "Goddammit, Megan, I _said _no lipstick!"

"Oh, relax," she said, waving him off as she pulled out a long tube. "It's lip-_gloss._It's totally clear, see?"

Jack did look and saw that the tube _was _see-through, but still remained less than enthused. "It doesn't have any shimmer or whatever in it, does it?"

"Nope," Megan assured, twisting open the lip-gloss. She grinned at the mildly surprised expression that flit across Jack's face at the powerful scent that suddenly filled the bathroom. "Just perfectly normal cherry-flavored lip-gloss. You could even lick it off when you're done wearing it."

It took another minute or so, but Jack conceded. "Fine," he said, "just do it and get it over with."

"Purse your lips for me," Megan requested, holding out the lip brush.

_Completely _putting it out of his mind that he was essentially making a kissy face at his cousin, Jack did so and felt the wet swipe of the brush coating his lips with the glossy substance.

"Spread it around a little to make sure it's even."

And Jack did that, too, pressing his lips together to get the proper distribution of gloss. As soon as he finished, he gave Megan a look. "There, are you done _now_?"

Megan took her time answering, looking closely at the finished product of her work. "Yeah," she said at length, "I think we're good here. Thanks a lot, Jack, this'll really help me with Suyin tomorrow."

"Sure, yeah, whatever." Jack stood, two long-legged strides taking him to the opposite end of the bathroom where the sink stood. "All I care about is that I can take this _off._"

Or he _would _have been able to had an urgent beeping noise not sounded from his pocket at the same time he reached for the sink.

Megan watched with interest as Jack completely stopped what he was doing and grabbed his phone from his pocket.

"Shit," he cursed after one look at the screen, "I have to go."

"Go where?" Megan asked.

"Don't worry about it," Jack said, shoving his phone back in his pocket and looking wistfully at the sink. "I don't even have time to wash this crap off. _Damn._"

Megan followed after him when he abruptly walked out of the bathroom to retrieve his helipack from his bed. "Wait," she said, "you're really leaving? What do _I _do while you're gone?"

"Wait for me to get back? Go home?" Jack guessed, opening his window and hopping onto the sill. "Honestly, I don't care what you do as long as you stay out of my lab."

"Are you going to see your girlfriend?"

Jack paused at that and managed a smirk at Megan. "Yeah, I am," he said, and with that, he took off into the sky for parts unknown.

In reality, Jack wasn't headed for the unknown. His destination was nowhere—the _Land _of Nowhere, to be precise.

It was extremely rare that Chase actually went out of his way to call for him. Usually, whatever the dragonlord wanted could wait until Jack came on his own because Jack's visits were frequent, every other day if not daily.

That Chase was requesting _him,_even in light of that might've had something to do with Jack's haste.

In very little time since he'd received the summons, Jack touched down upon the ledge outside the mountain stronghold, pausing only long enough for the door to swing open before quickly heading inside.

As expected, Jack did not have to wait long before Chase appeared. Descending down the line of marble steps from the dais, the overlord looked just as wickedly gorgeous as ever, radiating his usual elegant grace.

"Spicer," he greeted his apprentice smoothly. "It didn't take you long to get here."

Jack shrugged. "You called me," he said by way of explanation. "What'd you need?"

Pleased by the answer, Chase smirked. "I require nothing in particular. Your absence today simply seemed rather pronounced, though if I'd been timing you, I imagine you'd have set a record."

Jack failed to hide his smile. "What can I say? You're great motivation."

"That I am," Chase agreed, reaching the bottom of the stairs and coming to stand before the goth.

Jack could've probably pinpointed the exact moment Chase noticed his little makeover. It was the moment that those gold, reptilian eyes truly settled on him for the first time since Jack had entered, filling with a look of bemusement. _Much _more obvious was the head-tilt that accompanied the look and the curious-sounding, "Spicer…?"

Physically drooping, Jack sighed. "Right, the make-up," he muttered. "It's…my cousin, she…kind of made me—"

"You look ravishing."

"I know, I know, I plan to wash if off as soon as—…did you say, 'ravishing'?"

"I did," Chase confirmed, taking another step closer to Jack and eyeing his face with interest. "I've never seen you wear cosmetics before."

"But…I wear my eyeliner all the time," Jack protested.

Chase shook his head. "That is decoration," he dismissed. "_This _is art."

Jack resisted the temptation to squeak in a very unmanly fashion when one of Chase's hands settled on his chin, allowing him to peer more closely at the make-up. Instead, he declared, "Well…I'm not going to be wearing this _all _the time."

Of course, he knew full well that if Chase asked it of him, he would do it.

Thankfully, he didn't. "No, of course not," he agreed with Jack's assertion. "It would be downright impractical to doll yourself up like this _every_ day." He paused. "Although you _do _look excellent dolled up."

"You really… Do you really like it that much?" Jack couldn't help but ask.

"Yes, I do," said Chase. "The purpose of cosmetics is to accentuate one's natural beauty and you are definitely…_accentuated _today."

"But…I'm wearing _blush,_" he said weakly.

Chase raised an eyebrow at him. "And? It was hardly all that long ago that men wore rouge as well as women. Done correctly, it's a look I happen to find attractive."

Jack frowned. "What about the eyeliner? Do…do you like it more than what I usually do?"

"More? Yes," his overlord answered. "What you're wearing now is more…_tasteful _than your usual. At the very least, it brings out your eyes better, though I do understand the need for your typical war-paint."

Feeling strange at losing an argument and being complimented at the same time, Jack just barely managed to ask, "And the lip-gloss?"

Chase stared at him for only a moment, then leaned in to kiss him and before Jack could even react, he pulled away again.

Mouth half-open to ask what _that_ was for, the goth found himself abruptly unable to move at the sight of Chase's tongue sweeping out over his bottom lip in a downright _seductive _motion.

"Mmm…" Chase grinned at him. "I _do _like cherry."

Jack's mouth closed and even as a certain part of him became very excited at the prospect of what was about to happen, he knew in the back of his mind that it meant he'd have to bite a very unpleasant bullet.

Several hours later, lounging around on her cousin's couch, eating his potato chips, and watching Thursday night reality shows, Megan's phone suddenly vibrated on the coffee table.

Setting aside the bag of chips and picking it up, she saw that Jack had sent her a text.

_Turns out my girlfriend digs guys who wear make-up,_ it said. _This is the only time you're ever going to hear this from me, so save this for eternity if you ever want to hear it again: THANK YOU._

Megan laughed and then resumed watching TV.

**A/N: And here's Magic Scent C, Part 1 of 2. I would've just posted it in one piece, but all four colors beginning with the letter C ended up going over FF's length limit. You see what I mean when I said I can't write drabbles anymore?**

**_Cedar Chest - _This one is sort of meta. It's the result of me taking in criticism about Chack as a pairing and wanting to write something that makes sense of the relationship as I see it and how the canon characters might believably get together. Hopefully, I succeeded in some capacity.**

**_Cherry - _I don't really have an excuse for this one other than wanting to give Jack a reason to get tarted up, and who better to force him to wear makeup than his bratty cousin? Additionally, did anyone catch Chase's code for 'I missed you'? XD**

**That's that for Part 1, Part 2 coming up soon!**

**Thanks for reading and hope you liked it! :D**


	11. MS: C, Pt 2

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Chocolate-**_

Sylvia watched her son stare intently at his boots, as he had been doing since he'd arrived. Sitting there on the couch and not saying a word, Jack looked almost like a statue. He could probably have been mistaken for painted marble if not for the tangible air of anxiety that surrounded him.

The sight went against every motherly bone in her body.

Sitting down on the couch beside him, Sylvia placed a hand on his shoulder. "Honey," she said, "don't look so down. You're going to depress _me _at this rate."

Jack sighed. "I'm sorry, mom," he said sincerely, "but I just… I don't know."

"What?"

"This whole…_thing_!" Jack looked at his mother, expression full of strife. "I don't…I don't know. This sucks."

Having had her fair share of romantic troubles, Sylvia sympathized. "Jackie, I know things like this can be hard," she began placidly, "but you'll get through it. It's not the end of the world."

Jack shook his head. "No, mom, you don't _get_ it," he said, a note of panic entering his voice. "He's _mad_ at me. What if he's _really_ mad? What if this is, like…a really big deal? What if he tells me to take a hike? _I don't like hiking!_"

Sylvia managed not to smile and remained focused on the issue at hand. "Alright, Jack, calm down. Why don't you tell me exactly what happened?"

Jack took a deep breath. "Okay," he said, "so…a Shen Gong Wu went active and Chase and I went to get it. Apparently, the monks and Wuya had the same idea."

"I don't like that woman," Sylvia declared. "She tried to replace me and then she has the _nerve _to throw my baby aside like yesterday's news!"

That got at least half a smile out of Jack. "Thanks, mom, I don't like her much, either, but back to the thing?"

"Oh, of course, sweetie, go right ahead."

Jack did. "So, you know how I've been training with Chase, right?" He waited for his mother to nod before continuing, "I've been doing really well lately, so we thought it was about time for me to show off what I learned and… Well, you know Chase and I—we both love theatrics."

Jack, for one, remembered his excitement at the idea his overlord had proposed in order to dramatically reveal his new-found skills to their enemies and spared a brief moment of mourning over the fact that it was ultimately unfulfilled.

"So we got there and instead of a Showdown, Chase proposed a different kind of challenge. We would all just straight up fight for it. To make it interesting, we were going to fight separately against the five of them—I got to pick somebody to take one-on-one and then Chase would take the others in a four-on-one."

"Well, that's unusual," mused Sylvia. "How did you get them to agree to something so far out of the norm?"

"From their perspective, it would've worked in their favor," Jack pointed out. "They still thought I was…uh… _less_ than formidable, so none of them were worried about having to go up against me. As for Chase, he's a _really _formidable dude so if they get the chance to take him in a tag-team battle, they're gonna jump on it because the odds are better that one of them will actually win."

"I suppose that makes sense. So, they agreed," Sylvia noted. "Who did you pick to fight?"

Jack tried to grin again. "Who else? I went right for Wuya. She really _did_ just toss me off like garbage and before that, all she did was nag and snipe at me. If I wanted _anyone _to be the first to see that I can kick ass now, it was her."

Pleased, Sylvia smiled brightly. "So did you?"

"Kick her ass?" Jack wondered. "For a little while, yeah. She didn't take me seriously, so I got a few really good hits in before she stepped up her game a little and I actually had to work to beat her. We were pretty evenly matched, but I still think I could've won."

"Could've? You mean you didn't win?" Leave it to Jack's mother to pick up on such a small word choice.

Really, though, he shouldn't have been very surprised—he had to have inherited part of his genius from _one _of his parents, and the only thing he'd gotten from his dad was his unnaturally red hair.

Jack shook his head in the negative. "I _could've_ won, but Wuya decided to take a page out of my book. She _cheated._"

"How?"

"She's not all that old, but she's definitely not young anymore, either," Jack explained, "and she was up against me, a young guy with pretty decent stamina that's recently been training with Chase Young. And I told you I got in a couple of heavy shots before she started treating me as a threat, so y'know, at this point she's looking for an out."

Sylvia practically pouted. "And she got one, didn't she?"

Jack nodded. "One of her 'allies' showed up and because the universe just _loves _me, it happened to be Hannibal Roy Bean."

Sylvia jumped a bit in her seat. "Phyllis warned me about him when I married your father," she said. "He's supposed to be some creature of unspeakable evil, isn't he?"

"Pretty much," confirmed Jack. "He's also the one responsible for bringing Chase to the Heylin side and making him immortal, so he's one seriously bad dude." He made an expression of distaste. "Of course, that makes it all the more certain that I am beloved by many gods of luck because _that's_the guy Wuya begged to swap out with her."

Blue eyes widened. "Oh, Jack, honey… She pit you against Hannibal Bean?"

"Yeah. I guess she could've done worse and fought _with_ him, but…I don't know, it's hard to feel excited about that when you're about to go toe to…root, I guess with _Bean._"

"And where was Chase?" Sylvia demanded. "He didn't just leave you alone to contend with his former teacher, did he?"

"No! No way, he wouldn't!" Jack paused. "Well…not on purpose anyway. He saw Bean tagging in against me and tried to come help me, but the monks got in his way."

"Did they _want _you to get yourself killed?"

"I don't think so," Jack opined after a moment's thought. "If anything, they probably just didn't realize the level of 'Shit Just Got Real' that was going on. _Technically,_none of the rules of the challenge had been broken and I was still in a perfectly acceptable one-on-one battle. It probably didn't even occur to them that Bean could've maimed or killed me if he thought it might negatively affect Chase."

"And Chase could've put that thought in his head by trying to get to you at the beginning of the fight," his mother inferred.

To this, Jack could only nod. "Pretty much. So, before he _can _get to me, Chase had to take out all the monks to get them out of his way and until he could do that, I was stuck in the ring with Bean."

"You aren't hurt," declared Sylvia. "I suppose that means he got to you in time?"

Jack hesitated. "Yeah…" he said slowly, "but see…while he was still dealing with the monks, he ordered me not to engage Bean."

Sylvia nodded. "He _does _value you," she noted. "He wouldn't want you to actually try and fight that thing by yourself."

The woman watched a familiarly guilty expression cross her son's face. "Oh, Jackie, you _didn't_…"

"It's not like I had much of a choice!" Jack exclaimed. "If I tried to run or fly away, he's got those…tentacle…viney things and he can change size at will. He could just drag me right back—and _then _he'd have a hold on me and I'd be screwed even worse!"

"But Chase gave you an order, honey," Sylvia pointed out softly. "He's your _lord._"

"I know, I know," Jack moaned, "but I didn't know what else to do. I stayed on the defensive the whole time 'cause I had to do _something,_but…yeah, I ignored an order."

"Well, that _would _explain why he's mad at you."

Jack flopped backwards against the couch, limp and obviously sullen. "No kidding," he said. "By the time he got to me, he was totally furious. I don't think it was _all_ directed at me, though. He was probably pissed at the monks and Wuya… _definitely _Bean."

"He took most of it out on Bean, I imagine?" asked Sylvia.

"On their best days, they get along like two alley-cats thrown into a sack," stated Jack. "Their fight today had about the same result."

"So what happened? Was Bean killed?"

Jack snorted. "If that happened, Chase would be in a _way _better mood," he muttered. "Bean opted for a strategic retreat. He's good, but Chase is probably just as good and Chase happened to be really angry at the time. Anyway, he cut out of there and then we went home without even the Wu to show for it."

Sylvia almost didn't ask, but Jack's story was not yet finished. "And that was when Chase sent you away?"

Jack's flinch was subtle, but very _there._"Yeah," he managed to confirm and that was all he said.

His mother probed a little further. "Well, what happened? What did he say to you, exactly?"

Jacked frowned. "I tried to apologize," he said, "or at least explain _why_ I did what I did, but…he wasn't having any of it." He shuddered briefly to remember the cold, stone-faced way Chase had either ignored or cut off his every attempt to grovel with a curt, 'Not _now,_ Spicer,' forming an icy knot of pure dread in his consort's stomach. "I guess he got sick of me bugging him because he snarled at me to just _leave,_and…here I am."

"Oh, baby…" Sylvia, affectionately stroked her son's hair, realizing _just _how bad Jack was feeling when he didn't even protest the mussing. "It's probably not as bad as you think. He probably just sent you away for a little while so he wouldn't hurt you."

"But he didn't _say_ it was 'for a little while,'" Jack protested. "He just said to _go._ What if…what if he meant _forever_?"

Briefly, Sylvia entertained the thought of pandering to Jack's fears and continuing to try and reassure him that everything would turn out alright, but she knew him too well. This upset, he would refuse all attempts at comfort and remain entrenched in his anxieties.

"I just finished a batch of brownies before you came," she offered instead. "Would you like one?"

"…yes."

Sylvia clapped her hands and in only a few brief seconds, she was addressing a Jackbot. "Could you go and fetch the tray of brownies from the kitchen?"

So wonderful Jack was to have programmed the things to be polite to his mother, for the automaton quickly dipped in a bow with a, "Yes, ma'am," before zooming off to get the desired item.

Jack gave his mother an odd look when she called out a 'thank you' after the robot. "So…" he said at length, "are you sure you're evil? You say 'please' and 'thank you' and you're always _baking._"

Sylvia grinned. "Jackie, pleasantries and good manners are only 'good' when people do them for nothing. Evil people like us can use it as a tool to get what we want—it's why I insisted you learn all about etiquette and being a gentlemen even though you fought me tooth and nail on it."

"More flies with honey, huh?" Jack said, quirking a half-hearted smile.

Sylvia laughed as the Jackbot re-entered the room, bringing with it an overwhelmingly sweet, cloying scent of chocolate. "Or more flies with fudge," she teased as the tray of brownies was set down upon the coffee table.

Jack actually sat up straighter just to stare at the heavenly looking plate of brown squares. Each and every brownie was picture perfect, looking thick and warm and moist and drizzled all over with chocolate sauce.

"Goddamn, those look _amazing,_" he declared, inhaling another breath of their rich, overbearing smell. "What are they, double-fudge?"

"Triple," Sylvia said. "I was _going _to bring them to that country club where half the women are dieting, but you looked like you could use one more."

Jack picked up a square, examining its sinful, chocolatey temptation up close. He took a bite and around his mouthful conceded, "Yeah, okay, you're pretty evil."

"Of course I am," smiled Sylvia, "you had to get it from somewhere and your father's family is the kind where it skips a generation."

Jack swallowed the bite he'd taken. "Ick," he said, "I can't imagine how much it would suck to have a _good _kid."

"Now, Jackie, that's closed-minded," Sylvia chastised. "You would love and accept them anyway, even if you didn't agree with their lifestyle. I know for awhile there, I was preparing myself for the day you told me you wanted to go join the Xiaolin monastery."

Jack audibly gagged.

"Just as a precaution!" his mother promised. "You were so wishy-washy in those days. There was a real chance you'd have chosen the other side."

"Maybe…" Jack frowned and then shook his head. "No. I'd never have gone Xiaolin. Maybe if the only evil person I knew outside my family was Wuya, I'd have been driven to good out of spite, but…with Chase on the Heylin side," he confessed, "there's no way I could've been anything but."

A dark aura suddenly spilled into the room and Sylvia's only thought was, _Speak of the devil and he doth appear._

Jack seemed to sense it immediately and was already staring over at a shadowy corner of the room when Chase Young materialized from it.

Naturally, he didn't even have to say a word for Jack to all but leap from the couch with a half-delighted, half-nervous cry of, "Chase!"

For his part, Chase stepped forward, aloof and lordly with his arms folded behind his back. "Spicer," he greeted, sounding _infinitely_ calmer than when his apprentice had last seen him. "So, _this _is where you've been."

Sylvia remained quiet in her seat, knowing that what followed did not concern her. Still, she almost couldn't help her smile at Chase's implication; that he'd been _looking_for Jack.

But Jack had never been good at picking up on subtleties like that. He was clearly still worried that his master might not want him back.

"I didn't have anywhere else to go," he said in response to Chase's question. "You _did _tell me to leave…"

"Yes. I suppose that's at least _one _order you chose to obey."

Jack flinched. "I'm sorry," he blurted out, _needing _to say it. "I mean, it's not like I was going out of my way to disobey you, I just—"

"But you _did_ disobey me!" Chase snapped and Jack immediately shut his mouth. "I gave you a direct order and _you didn't listen, _Spicer."

"How was I supposed to get out of that without engaging him at all?" Jack pled, visibly distressed. "I…I didn't try to attack him, but Chase, it was _Bean_! How am I supposed to run away from him _without _making it worse?"

"You could have made the attempt before giving it up as hopeless," Chase growled. "You could have _tried _to trust in me to advise you and protect you."

"I did!" Jack exclaimed. "I _do_! You don't think…" He blinked for a moment, looking shocked. "Do you think I did what I did because…I didn't expect you to help me?"

"Didn't you?" Chase demanded. "As far as I can see, your actions today indicate a serious lack of faith in me as your master on _multiple_ levels." He came closer, a mere foot (if that) from his apprentice. "You ignored an order, suggesting you believe you know better than I. You did not wait for me to reach you—which I can only assume means you didn't trust me to reach you in time. And most importantly, you chose to fight Bean, as if you thought I wouldn't be of help when I _did _get to you."

"What? _No,_Chase, I…that's not…!" The goth latched onto him in a desperate hug. "I didn't even think about any of that stuff, I swear! I just…I was stuck in that situation and…and no matter how I looked at it, I only saw one thing to do."

Chase glared coldly at him, apparently unaffected by the embrace. "That course of action was _not _the one I gave to you."

Jack ducked his head guiltily. "I'm sorry," he muttered again. "I didn't _mean_ to go against you, but…I didn't get it. It didn't make sense in the situation and I…I didn't want to _die, _Chase…"

Sylvia had to hold back a giggle as she unobtrusively watched the lovers' spat unfold, but _really._ For all that Chase was deadly and vicious and _very _Heylin, it was far too sweet in her eyes that at the very mention of Jack's death, his hard and furious façade wavered, revealing the barest hint of concern and affection underneath.

It also did not go unnoticed that Chase finally deigned to touch his minion, placing a hand firmly upon his back.

"Spicer," the overlord said, "if you had run when I told you, Bean wouldn't have pursued you."

Jack looked at him, confused. "How do you know?" he asked quietly.

"Bean does not waste his time with what he believes to be worthless," Chase told him. "He had not seen you at your best. His interest in you would have been minimal and if you had fled, he wouldn't have wasted the effort to go after you—especially not with myself and the monks so nearby for him to pay attention to."

"But I was kicking Wuya's ass," Jack protested. "He had to have seen that. Wouldn't that give him a clue that I'm not…the same as I used to be?"

"It might have given him a vague idea," Chase allowed, "but neither is he one to jump to conclusions. If you can come close to defeating Wuya, you _may_ have become a stronger fighter…or you _may_ have found some technological means of cheating your way through a battle, or you _may _have caught the witch on an off day. He would have needed more evidence to safely conclude an improvement on your part."

Jack winced, finishing "…which I gave him by fighting back." He took a step back from his master. "Oh, I can't believe I was that _stupid_…"

Chase sighed. "Not stupid," he denied, "merely uninformed. You don't _know_ Bean, Jack. You don't know how he thinks—_I _do."

"I should've just listened to you."

"Yes, you _should _have," Chase agreed. "It's not a mistake I will tolerate again, Spicer."

Sylvia smiled, downright delighted when Jack picked up on _this _subtlety. Chase had said 'again.' There would be other orders, other chances to do things correctly—Jack was still most definitely Chase's apprentice and consort.

His mother _knew _Jack realized this, too, because there was no other way to explain the sudden perk of his demeanor or why he again pounced upon Chase.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Jack said, gleefully nuzzling his master's neck. "Never again, I promise!"

Chase frowned, but tellingly did not push him away. "Don't go thinking you're off the hook just yet, Jack," he warned.

Jack didn't even pause for a fraction of a second. "It's _your_ hook, I'm _glad _I'm still on it."

Scoffing and half-grinning at the same time, Chase shook his head. "You absolute screwball. I'm taking you home before you get any _worse._"

Abruptly, he turned to his consort's mother as though just realizing she was there. However, the utterly composed, cordial nod of, "Sylvia," he gave suggested he had been aware of her presence the entire time and simply hadn't cared.

A crackle of magic flickered in the room and in the very next moment, Mrs. Spicer was alone with her tray of brownies.

She picked one up and pondered how lucky in love her son had been. To snag such a gorgeously evil man was a feat in and of itself, but to have him so enthralled that nothing more than a few _almost _harsh words were exchanged over an offense as serious as outright defiance?

Jack really _was _beloved by many gods of luck.

Sylvia smiled pleasantly and took a bite of her brownie. She really _did _hope to live to see Chase propose, but it was so hard to gauge the timing with immortals.

One could only hope.

_**Coconut-**_

"So…this is undignified."

Chase snorted and somehow managed not to roll his eyes. "Yes, that is one word for it."

Though he couldn't see it, he could almost hear Spicer's confused frown. "What word would you use?"

"Humiliating. Inconvenient. Infuriating. Take your pick."

"Humiliating sounds about right," said Jack. "I'm actually kind of impressed that you're mad about it, too, though."

"You aren't?" Chase demanded.

"I was," Jack might've shrugged, "but I dunno, I'm finding it hard to muster up more than one feeling at a time right now. Kinda getting dizzy."

"That would be the blood rushing to your head."

"Oh. Yeah, probably." Jack moved then—or he tried to, but the rope binding his arms to his sides and his back to Chase's didn't give in the slightest, resulting in an awkward pendular motion for both of them.

Chase shifted in precise counteraction, slowing the unpleasant swaying even as he growled, "_Don't,_Jack. You're getting sand in my hair."

Jack tilted his head a bit, trying to get a better look at the ground. He couldn't see much, but he _was _able to see the dark ends of his overlord's impressively lengthy mane dragging amongst the shells on the beach.

"Oh. Sorry," he muttered, "I was trying to…I don't know, I kind of feel like passing out."

"Don't do that, either."

Jack blinked, staring back out at the (upside down) landscape of tropical paradise. "Don't…pass out? Sure thing. If I feel like blacking out, I'll just _stop._"

Chase growled. "Spicer, your sarcasm is _not_ helpful!" he snapped. "If you aren't going to contribute anything useful to the situation, perhaps you _should _just go ahead and faint."

Jack frowned. "Oh, well, _excuse_ me if I'm a little upset that I could end up bursting a blood vessel or something for staying like this, and y'know, the sun's not going to set for another couple of hours and you _know _how easy I burn and—"

"_Jack!_" Jack shut up. "I understand your concerns, but your _whining _isn't going to get us out of this!"

A sigh. "I know. Don't…don't be mad at me. I really don't want to fight with you while we're strung up from a palm tree. That's…that's not on my To Do list."

"Nor mine," and Jack relaxed a little bit because while Chase's voice still had the bite of a growl, it no longer seemed to be aimed at him. "Remind me to destroy Bailey when we get out of this."

"Could be worse," Jack said at length. "He could've hogtied us."

"And yet somehow, I'm hardly grateful for _this _predicament instead."

"…yeah, alright, screw that guy. We shall have our revenge and all that. In the meantime, did you have, like…a plan to get down?"

There was a cold silence from Chase and Jack immediately realized what it meant: Chase had nothing.

"You can't just bust out of this?" Jack tried. "I know it's a Wu, but you've got that superhuman strength deal going on, don't you?"

"Ordinary objects are infused with living energies in order to turn them into Shen Gong Wu," Chase said curtly. "That energy gives them their innate properties, but also renders them nigh indestructible so that the elements don't damage them over their centuries of existence. There is only one known way to outright destroy a Wu."

Jack nearly winced as he remembered the Hidoku Mouse. "Lava, right?"

"So glad you remember," Chase confirmed, "and though I'm flattered by your esteem, I cannot personally generate that kind of heat. Even if I could, _you _would end up damaged, as well."

Jack made a mental note to be touched by that last part later, because this really was kind of a time-sensitive venture. He could already feel a pink burn forming on his cheeks and the last thing he needed was for it to turn lobster-red.

"Okay, so you can't break it," he said. "Can you teleport somewhere else? It'd be great if you could take me with you, but even if just _you _could get out, that'd make things a hell of a lot easier."

"I'm truly moved by your faith in my mental abilities, Spicer," Chase groused. "You don't assume that was the _first _thing I considered?"

"So, that won't work either?" Jack wondered, disappointment dripping from the question.

"_No, _it wouldn't," Chase declared in a clipped tone. "The Kǔn Bǎng Lasso was specifically created to trap evil. My magic will not work."

"Well, fuck."

"I'm glad we're on the same page, finally."

Jack closed his eyes and did his best to _think_— because obviously, that was what Chase wanted him to do if he hadn't already come up with a plan. The only problem was, thinking clearly was getting harder and harder the longer they remained upside down.

"Um…okay…okay," he said after a few moments. "You can't get us down. I can't get us down. We need a third party."

"A third party would be useful, yes," Chase agreed.

Jack opened his eyes and the idea hit him. "I've got a communicator on the collar of my coat," he said, looking at the small bit of metal attached to the black leather. "If I could—"

"You what?" Chase asked, sounded startled. "You mean, you actually have a _reason _for wearing something with such an exaggerated collar?"

"What, you thought it was a fashion choice?" Chase said nothing and Jack would've flushed if his face wasn't already pink. "Okay, fine, it's _both_! Don't be jealous of my kickass coat, now's not the time."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Spicer," said Chase and okay, _now _he was rolling his eyes. "Back to your communicator?"

"Right. If I can get at it, I might be able to call one of my bots here to get us down or something."

"Do it," Chase ordered.

Of course, with Jack's arms tied up with the rest of him, he couldn't exactly turn the thing on by hand, as he usually did. This resulted in several beyond embarrassing attempts to grab at the edge of the collar with his mouth, stretching out his neck and only _just _snagging the corner with his teeth before it flopped completely in the other direction.

"Fuck," he said out loud. "I can't reach it."

Chase snarled wordlessly.

Jack craned his neck upward again, trying to get a look at the slim palm branch around which the Lasso was looped. It was a pretty sturdy knot and though it didn't look it, it was apparently a pretty sturdy branch if it could hold the weight of two fully grown men (one wearing _armor_) without breaking.

Though he could see no way to alter either one of those facts, the glance up _did _give him a good look at his booted feet.

Chase scowled as they both began moving again, a direct result of Jack's wriggling behind him. "What are you _doing_?" he demanded.

"Trying to get my boot off," Jack answered, shifting the toe of one foot to the heel of the other and shoving. "They're pretty thick, so if I can get at least one off, I might have—" he paused to grunt, "—a shot at giving us some slack to work with…"

This explained, Chase gave no further protest, though he continued to scowl as Jack's movement started them swaying even more than before.

Jack bit his lip, trying to concentrate. "Just gimme a—" The boot came off and Jack gave a short 'ha' in triumph as it fell down into the sand. With it went a fraction of the rope's tightness around them both. "Yes!"

Chase, however, was unable to share in his consort's glee, for his keen ears picked up a strange noise from where the boot had landed, followed quickly by the sound of shifting sand and _scuttling._

His attempt to see what the footwear had unleashed from the beach and consequently warn Jack of it did not go well, most probably due to a sudden tugging sensation on his hair that was quickly moving _up._

Jack did realize that _something _was going on, though, because it was hard to miss his overlord's startled jerk and the strangled noise that sounded as if Chase had just choked on nothing.

"Chase?" he asked. "Are you okay?"

He was absolutely not expecting the reply he got: an unmanly, somewhat muffled yelp of, "It's on my _face_!"

Red eyes went wide. "It's _what_? What's _it_? I don't—HOLY FUCK!"

The profanity was absolutely deserved because 'it' had apparently tired of Chase's face and had climbed up and around on _multiple pointed legs_ to skitter across Jack's stomach. 'It' also happened to be way, _way _bigger than anything with more than two legs the goth wanted within a five-mile radius of him.

Naturally, he shrieked in complete horror and his whole body reacted instinctively, trying to curl up in a ball or kick it off or _something, _which really set them both swinging. This managed to upset the creature and Chase both, the latter of which snapped his name while the former climbed even higher.

Jack shuddered impotently as it crawled up along his thighs, his calves—he gagged—his _unbooted foot,_before mercifully reaching the branch above.

"Oh my god," he quaked, irrationally trying to turn and look at Chase, "oh my god, that was—"

What it was or was not was apparently a discussion for another time as decided by gravity, which dropped the two of them into a sudden freefall to the beach with a sharp 'snap' of branch. Jack's second scream was cut off by the impact with the sand, accompanied by an obviously disgruntled, 'oof' from Chase.

Both of them realizing that the Lasso was more than a little slack around them now, neither wasted any time scrambling out of the coil of rope and away from each other.

Of course, Jack was quick to throw his arms around Chase and _cling,_ a wary gaze fixed on the huge, alien creature clambering around in the palm tree in spite of the now-broken off branch. "_What_," he breathed shakily, "is _that _thing?"

Curiously enough, Chase did nothing to cease Jack's clinging and in fact, settled an arm firmly around him. "I…believe that is a coconut crab," he said after a moment of gathering himself. "They're…ah. Very good climbers."

"That's a _crab_?" Jack gaped at the (excessively!) large thing in the tree. "Nuh-uh. Clearly a demonbeast from hell."

"For once, I agree with you," said Chase, "but I believe we owe our quick escape to that 'demonbeast.' It looks like it overweighted our branch."

Jack opted to take a quick break from holding onto his lover for dear life to rub at his shoulder, which had taken a lot of the brunt of the short fall and _OW._ "Why couldn't it have fallen _with_ us?" he demanded to know. "Then, we'd have had a cushion and the creepy fucker would be _dead._"

Chase got to his feet and began gathering up the length of the Kǔn Bǎng Lasso into a more manageable coil because _damned_if he was humiliated like this and didn't even get a Shen Gong Wu out of it. He paid no mind to Jack, who immediately shot up with him and reattached himself to his arm.

"What's done is done," the dragonlord said aloud. "Personally, I'm glad it isn't in my _hair _anymore."

Jack snorted. "Still. We owe Clay _big _for this bullshit. We've gotta—" He paused and a note of sadism entered his voice. "Oh…revenge idea."

Chase raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"What goes around, comes around," Jack smirked at him. "Let's see how he likes it: tie him up and lock him in a room with Beasty up there." He turned and watched the giant crab break open a coconut and begin feasting upon the insides. "Hell, let's cover him in coconut water or something, too. Just for shits and giggles!"

Chase smiled, absolutely pleased by the suggestion. "What an excellent idea, Jack," he praised, eyeing the creature conspiratorially. "Contact your robots and have them round up the rest of our large friend's family." Because _Chase_ sure as hell wasn't going to touch them. "I'm sure they'd all just _love _to meet Bailey."

Jack snickered and happily did as he was told.

**A/N: Magic Scent C, Part 2/2- this represents all of the Magic Scent collection I currently have written. It may be awhile before the next installment, but hey...B and C are already a lot of fic, so take what you can get, right? XD**

**_Chocolate - _ Already got Granny Spicer and Megan involved, why not Sylvia? XD This was sort of another meta piece, this one a response to people who grudgingly allow the possibility of Chack, but with the proviso that Chase is an abusive bastard. I don't completely discount that view, but it's not one I subscribe to because in the events of the canon, Chase very rarely puts his hands on Jack or goes out of his way to hurt him physically. When he does attempt murder, maybe once or twice _ever_ from the given episodes, he fails at actually killing Jack and maybe it's just me, but if Chase _really_ wanted Jack dead, he'd have _been _dead. So, anyway, resulting from that, here's a fic where Chase gets mad at Jack and they work it out with words. XD**

**Also, what went on in my mind while writing this one:**

**Me: Okay, I think I'm going to play up this Sylvia Hates Wuya thing. It's funny, but it's kind of true because Wuya does sort of act like Jack's mom at times, and at others she's a straight-up bitch to him! So, I'll just-**

**My Brain: CATFIGHT, WOOO! MRROW, HISSSSS, RAWR!**

**Me: ...**

**My Brain: Ooh! Get Katnappé involved! Then it'll _really _be a catfight! XD**

**Me: ...-facepalm- No, brain. STFU.**

**_Coconut - _I'll admit, I kind of agonized over what to do with this one for awhile and tried two completely different ideas that didn't pan out...until I hit on this one. I usually write Jack and Chase in a position of power (and by the end of this, granted, they are), but as far as cartoons go, the bad guys so rarely are. I wanted to give a shot to showing both of them after a typical Cartoon Villain Defeat, even if they did come back with a vengeance later. XD**

**Oh, and for anyone wondering why Chase and Jack are freaking out and acting like dorks, Google Image 'coconut crab.' Wouldn't you freak out if _that _thing was on your face?**

**Anyway, like I said, this is all I have of the Magic Scent collection for now. Hopefully not for long, but in the meantime, please enjoy B and C and as usual, thanks for reading! :D**


	12. MS: D, Pt 1

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Daffodil-**_

Amparo awoke to the clattering of rocks and the sound of someone trying to catch their breath.

Naturally, this was curious as it had been several hundred years at least since she had last seen a person here atop her lonely, craggy clifftop. She sat up and craned her neck, trying to get a better view of her visitor.

At the edge of the plateau knelt a man, in plain and dirtied clothes she noticed, obviously exhausted and ignorant of her presence. That was understandable, as the cliff-face he would have scaled to reach this place was both high and steep. He was one of only three mortals to have ever managed it, to her recollection.

"Excuse me," she called to the winded man. "Are you alright?"

He looked up at her and she saw that he was Asian, but before she could even finish wondering if he'd understood her, he responded in flawless Spanish. "Oh, hello," he greeted her breathlessly. "Are you the guardian of the Ancestral Daffodil?"

Amparo glanced at her ward, slightly taller than herself, and laid a hand upon its stem. "I am," she said. "Do you seek it?"

The man nodded as he stood, straightening his clothing as best he could. "I do," he told her. "I require its petals for a cure."

And of course, there was only one cure in the world that listed her flower as an ingredient. Amparo sucked in a sympathetic breath. "Goodness. Who have you angered to need the All Cure?"

But the man shook his head. "Not I, my wife. Or, I suppose she's still only my fiancée. She… Another man, a sorcerer desired her for his wife, but she had already given her heart to me. She refused him and he cursed her."

He gave a distressed sigh, running his fingers through his long, dark hair. His brown eyes were mournful as they looked almost pleadingly towards Amparo.

"I know not what spell he cast on her," he said, "but she has fallen ill. I had only heard stories of the All Cure… legends, really, but I… She is… I need her to be well again. I had to try."

He took a few steps towards her and knelt, respectful and supplicant. "Please, guardian," he entreated, "may I have its petals?"

Amparo looked at him, _saw_ him and twitched her wings. "Bullshit."

The man blinked at her, apparently startled, but she didn't budge an inch. As soon as he realized she wasn't falling for it, though, he proved her absolutely right with the dark scowl that crossed his face—something too mean and savage for a poor man with an ailing bride-to-be.

He rose to a proud stance, head held high as his appearance warped with the dissolution of the glamour he'd been wearing. When it had melted away, Amparo was left to behold a creature in the shape of a man, brilliant armor and plating where threadbare cloth had been. He could _almost_ pass for human like this, but his pointed ears and the wicked look in his golden eyes gave him away.

He smirked at her, unkind and showing off his fangs. "I have to admit, I'm curious," he told her, sounding nearly regal in counterpoint to the humble pleading of only a moment ago. "What gave me away?"

"You're very good," Amparo told him. "I probably wouldn't have guessed if I were anything else."

"But you are anjana."

She nodded. "We protect the good and punish the evil. We have to be able to know which is which."

He laughed, shaking his head. "I should have expected. A fairy-lie-detector."

"So, who are you really?" Amparo wondered. "And what do you really need the flower's petals for?"

"I am Chase Young," he declared, offering her a respectful bow. She was half-certain it was mocking. "I truly do seek the All Cure, though not for a woman."

"Yourself?" she guessed.

"My consort," he corrected. "He's the one who has been cursed. I have been unable to find the spell that was used, so I've no idea if the one who cast it spoke truthfully when he claimed there was no corresponding cure."

"Really? Someone like you, you didn't try to 'interrogate' him?"

Chase smiled at her and Amparo couldn't help but be vaguely unsettled. "That was my first course of action," he assured her. "The only useful thing I learned was that whatever curse it was, the death of the caster has no effect."

"So, that leaves you with the All Cure," Amparo concluded.

It was a complex counter-spell, with many ingredients and steps for preparation which worked wonders on curses and ailments alike. Many had come to her cliff over the centuries seeking her flower's petals for their use in the All Cure, but she had never actually heard of anyone successfully completing it. There were simply too many dangerous and deadly items on the list and the room for error was almost nonexistent.

Amparo often encountered those who tried anyway at the beginning of their quests. She was a logical first stop for with her impenetrable barrier around the flower and the oath she'd sworn to only distribute the petals to those whose causes she deemed worthy, she was one of the least terrifying things to be faced.

She looked up at Chase, powerful and intimidating, and couldn't help but wonder. "How close are you?"

"This is my last item."

She stared at him. "You've already ventured into the mouth of a _volcano_ to obtain a stone?"

"Perhaps the easiest task, I'd say."

"_You_ found a blessed object."

Chase apparently took no offense to the slight on his morality. "I found an object," he admitted. "I called on a favor to make it blessed."

"A favor. A holy man owed you a favor?"

"My brother happened to be a high-ranking monk," he clarified, "before I killed him." It didn't take him long to notice the disbelieving look Amparo was leveling at him. "He got over it. He holds no grudge."

"So I imagine you've found the minotaur's horn, as well."

"Finding the _minotaur_ was the hardest part of that. They aren't so simple to find as visiting the nearest labyrinth, no matter what popular mythology may lead you to believe," Chase told her, procuring the long, sharp bone from thin air. As he inspected it, a grin came to his face. "Though I must admit, once I found the beast, it was easily the most entertaining thing I've done in some time."

Before he vanished it again, Amparo eyed the horn and its jagged edge, which suggested it had simply been snapped off rather than cut. Considering the density of a minotaur's horns and the sheer power that would've been needed to just _break_ one off, _while_ contending with all of the force of an enraged bull-beast, she decided she was perfectly justified in shuddering.

"You _must_ be a brute, then," she said. "No matter how pretty you look on the outside."

"Thank you," Chase smiled at her, "for both sentiments."

Amparo frowned. "You're dedicated to this, I'll give you that, too. What the hell kind of curse did your consort get hit with, anyway?"

The answer was…unexpected.

"A muting spell," Chase said. "He is unable to speak."

"…really?"

Chase narrowed his eyes at her. "You still doubt me?" he demanded.

And Amparo took an extra second to _look_ again. "No," she said slowly. "You're not lying… But I think I misunderstand."

"How so?"

"The curse your young man is under—it's made him mute."

Chase nodded.

"And that's all," the fairy pressed.

"Yes."

"He's not sick or dying?"

"Not to my knowledge, no."

Amparo was quiet as she gathered her thoughts. "So, he can't speak and nothing else is wrong with him at all."

"Your understanding of the situation seems _quite_ sound," Chase confirmed, sounding a tad annoyed now.

"Are you _sure_ that's it?" she questioned.

Amparo filed it away for further use and bragging rights that she had made an apparently unflappable fiend of great power take on an expression of total befuddlement.

"_What_?"

"It just doesn't make sense," the anjana elaborated, "because the All Cure is no walk in the park. Men have died trying to complete it."

"_Mortal_ men," Chase succinctly pointed out. "I am not a mortal man."

"So it's easi_er_ for you. That doesn't mean it's easy."

Were it not for the lordly sense about him, Amparo thought the creature might have shrugged. "I did not say I found it easy, but for one such as me, it's hardly the Sisyphean task you make it out to be." Chase grinned at her again. "Besides, I enjoy a challenge."

"When it benefits you, I'm sure," Amparo agreed. "But this is a little issue, one that doesn't even impact you directly. You'll forgive me if I find your ratio of effort to benefit just a bit skewed."

"It does impact me directly," Chase insisted. "He is _my_ consort. I am his overlord. It is my responsibility to ensure his continued welfare—and to see any issues that arise therein taken care of."

"So, gracing your bed is a job that comes with full health benefits. Does he get dental, too?" The look Chase shot her was absolutely frigid and she laughed. "Oh, relax, there's no need to take it as a personal affront. I suppose I'm just trying to figure out your motivation. He's your consort, isn't he?"

Chase gave her a stiff nod in response.

"If he's good at his job, I could see you doing this over a curse that sealed his lips," Amparo reasoned, "but if that were the case, you'd have said so. For you to go to all this trouble over loss of voice…" She offered him a wry expression. "He must be one _hell_ of a screamer, hm?"

Something strange flickered in the man's expression and it made Amparo _watch_ him as he smirked at her, slow and sinful.

"Oh, he is," Chase drawled, sounding painfully smug about it. "My Jack has been known to say some of the filthiest things imaginable in bed, most especially when I have him underneath me trying against impossibility to claw open my back with just his fingernails. His…coherence does have a tendency to dissolve the closer I get to making him come, but I find the helpless string of profanity he utters to be quite charming in its own way."

And Amparo grimaced because that was perhaps a bit more than she wanted to know for a total truth, but she definitely noticed the weird sense of a truth-lie about the words. Apparently, her question had struck too close to something Chase did not wish to speak of—instead of giving her that truth or lying again, he was giving her a sentiment that was graphically, uncomfortably true to steer her onto something else.

Amparo had no doubt that, if pushed, the overlord would begin to describe what 'his Jack' looked like when thoroughly debauched, or what he did to debauch him in the first place, and she was not about to risk losing that particular game of Chicken. She wisely backed off of the issue.

"Lovely," she said. "So that's what you want the petals for?"

"Yes," Chase confirmed. "I require them to make my consort functional again."

A half-truth, at best. He had other reasons he was not speaking, but that _was_ one of them.

Of course, Amparo could not judge unclear or unstated causes and she had taken a very solemn oath.

"Chase Young, I deny your request." She firmly crossed her arms over her chest. "You may not have the Ancestral Daffodil's petals."

The answering demand was sharp and short. "Why not?"

"Because you're evil," she told him, "and because your reason is selfish. Only those with a noble cause may have these petals."

There was a sudden rush of dark energies such that the air began to crackle and Amparo had to lean on her flower at the momentary vertigo brought with the evil magicks. Chase's face was carefully blank, but the look of black murder in his eyes made the anjana so very grateful for the mystical barrier that continued to protect her and the Daffodil both.

For a moment, Amparo was certain that the beast in human skin was about to embarrass himself by trying to overcome the shield anyway, but even angry, Chase appeared to retain his sense.

Slowly, the overbearing aura of violence retreated and was sealed away again with a deep breath and a sigh.

"I cannot sway you otherwise?"

"Unless you can give me an honest, noble reason for wanting them, I'm afraid my hands are tied." Though she wasn't really, Amparo thought it at least polite to add, "I'm sorry."

"I see."

And then, the fae-woman was left to stare as Chase sat down upon the grass, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"Meditating," Chase informed her curtly. "I find it extremely useful in centering myself."

"Why?"

"I don't know how much your fairy-sight can see of me," he began, not opening his eyes, "but beneath my utterly gorgeous visage lurks a feral dragon-monster that is _quite_ annoyed by your refusal. I had hoped to spare a lady like yourself of that sight by maintaining my calm."

A dragon, of course. Amparo had known the creature's true form would have to be something nasty and his words settled it. "But—"

"I may not be able to harm _you,_ anjana, or your Daffodil," he spoke over her, "but I can and will raze this cliff of yours to nothingness should you provoke me any further. Consider your words carefully."

Prudently, the fairy did and when she next spoke, it was a cautious, "Why are you still here?"

"I have already told you of my quest," he said simply. "It has not changed in the last five minutes."

"The petals?" Amparo frowned. "But I denied you. I said no."

"And it's wonderful that your short-term memory is so functional," which, _wow,_ that was caustic, "but 'no' is not an answer I can accept."

"Are you just planning on waiting here until I hand them over?"

"I have no concrete plans at this time," said Chase, "but I do refuse to leave this place without the petals."

Amparo couldn't help her disbelieving snort of laughter. "You're in for a long wait!"

But Chase seemed steadfastly unbothered by that. "I think you'll find I'm just as immortal as you are, and I have no pressing business for the next thousand years or so. I can wait as long as I must."

The anjana chuckled. "But your consort," she reminded, "the one you came here for. He's—"

"Bound to my lifeforce indefinitely," Chase finished for her. "He is not about to die before I do."

Amparo's already weak smile fell from her face. Again, she was feeling a sense of not having the full story. "You made him immortal?"

"Yes. He is my apprentice as well as my consort: what point would there be training him in the ways of evil only to abandon him to a nonsensically brief mortal life?"

An apprentice, too. That was some new information and it probably had a lot to do with Chase's other, unspoken reasons.

Wanting your whore to get his voice back was one thing. Wanting your _student's_ voice back was another entirely, and typically came with motivations quite a bit more noble.

Partly because it was her duty and partly because she was curious now, Amparo decided to investigate it.

"Your apprentice," she started slowly, already _looking_ carefully for the subtleties of Chase's response. "How did he get cursed, anyway?"

Chase's eyes opened and he watched her for a moment, wary. Eventually, he answered, "His miraculous luck finally failed him. He found someone who refused to be charmed by him."

The small fairy tilted her head, not understanding. Thankfully, Chase elaborated without her having to voice her confusion.

"Jack has always been a nuisance," he told her. "It was much worse when he was a child, but even now, he still has moments where he…well."

"Well, what?"

Chase sighed. "Last week, I made the mistake of leaving him relatively unsupervised, without a project to work on for about forty-eight hours. When I returned, he had covered the wall in post-it notes."

Amparo made a face. "I suppose that could be inconvenient, but—"

Chase cut her off, shaking his head. "_All_ of the walls."

"Oh…"

"We live in a palace."

"_Oh._" That was kind of giving her a headache just thinking about having to deal with it. "And you didn't murder him for it on the spot?" she asked incredulously.

"I couldn't even yell at him. I was too impressed." Chase laughed softly, a barely-there private smile on his lips. "It's impossible to explain to someone who hasn't met him, but there's something almost endearing about him. He can do the most annoying, infuriating things and he'll face consequences, but somehow never as severe as they should be. I've only ever seen one person punish him without holding back—consciously or otherwise—in the two decades I've been aware of his existence."

"The one who cursed him," Amparo inferred, and Chase nodded.

"I doubt he was immune," the overlord reasoned, "but my apprentice's charm is such that it grows stronger over time. That day was the first they had ever been in contact and apparently, the sorcerer's temper was just a mite quicker than my Jack's…Jackness."

"What were you doing screwing around with a sorcerer, anyway?" the anjana wondered. "Aren't dragons supposed to hoard treasure and hide it away from all humanity?"

His answering smirk was dry. "You're thinking of Western dragons, but you're correct to assume I prefer my solitude. However, my apprentice and I are elites in the evil circles we exist in. To remain as such, we must occasionally appear at certain events and reaffirm our mastery, which sometimes brings us into contact with social climbers, so to speak. The sorcerer was one such individual— _before_ he chose to go against his betters."

Amparo was certain that Chase didn't fully realize he was doing it, but her 'sight' made the inclusive pronouns impossible to miss: 'we,' 'our,' and 'us' instead of 'I,' 'mine,' and 'me.' At least in his speech, he was putting Jack on the same level as him and that was just so very interesting.

"So, your Jack got muted, and then you killed the man who did it. I'm guessing your consort liked to talk?"

It was the only explanation that made sense for such a drastic reaction, even from an evil dragon-man-monster, and Chase confirmed it for her.

"He is very talkative, yes. I've never known him to be otherwise in all the years he has been mine."

"And how long is that, exactly?" Amparo prodded. "You said you'd known him twenty years. How many of those has he been yours?"

"Twelve," Chase answered shortly and the suspicious look he gave her let the fairy know that her question had been just a tad too on-the-nose. He knew now that she was fishing for information.

Hoping that his knowledge of her investigation wouldn't interfere with it, she asked another question. "He's a regular motor-mouth then, and all of sudden, he can't talk. How'd he take it?"

Chase's expression became vaguely distant at that. "Badly."

Still just a one-word answer, unfortunately. "How badly?"

Briefly, Amparo feared she was pushing her luck too far as this was obviously very close to the thing Chase had refused to talk about before, possibly _directly_ related. There was even a long pause in the conversation that almost felt like an ending.

But after a stretch of nothing, Chase gave her an answer. "Very badly. He…was violent for awhile. I allowed him to take it out on the sorcerer for a bit, but I had to step in when his knuckles split. After, he destroyed some of the machinery in his lab with a crowbar while I…conducted the interrogation. I believe that was his way of screaming when his voice had been taken away."

When the uncharacteristically quiet, halting explanation lapsed back into silence, Amparo gently prompted him to continue. "And then?"

"And then I told him what I had learned. That there was no conventional cure." Emotion flickered in his eyes again, though his face betrayed nothing. "Then, he was blank."

Amparo felt her heartbeat stutter the moment she realized what she had just seen.

Empathy. _That_ was the thing glinting behind Chase's well-refined mask; honest-to-God _empathy_ from an ancient evil beast.

Amparo wasn't sure whether she wanted to meet this Jack immediately or never for being somehow enough to make a cold-hearted thing like Chase feel his pain.

"So you told him about the All Cure," she concluded, "and you told him you would get it for him."

"Yes." The now-obvious feeling in Chase's eyes vanished again and was replaced by the cool determination he'd had before. "He was better after that. His confidence in my abilities is strong—and well deserved. It has only taken me three days to get as far as I have."

Amparo's wings fluttered. "Three days? You've left him alone for three days?"

"Not alone," Chase assured her. "He has both my minions and his own for company and he is not a child. He does not need me to function."

"Well, no, but… It seems like this has really upset him. Don't you think…" She hesitated only a moment before pressing on. "Don't you think he'd rather have you there?"

Chase didn't waver for a second. "He doesn't need _me_ right now," he said simply. "He needs to be _fixed._"

And right there, Amparo saw it: Chase's real reason, the biggest, overarching one totally unrelated to Jack's mere usefulness or functionality.

It was the second time that day she had to filter through the shock because it was The Big One; the Noblest of Noble Causes for which she was not only allowed, but _required_ to give over her daffodil's petals for.

True Love from an evil overlord. That was definitely a new one.

She felt Chase's eyes on her intently as she reached up and plucked three canary-yellow petals from the Ancestral Daffodil. Gathering them together, she held them out to him, past the barrier he couldn't penetrate.

His gloved hand took them from her without hesitation, depositing them into a small drawstring pouch that had appeared out of nowhere.

Amparo boldly met the golden eyes that watched her as he spoke. "I take it you've deemed my quest worthy, then."

"I have," she nodded. "Your cause is nobler than I thought."

The suspicion was back in his gaze as he dissipated the pouch. "And what exactly is so noble about my cause?" he wondered. "What made you decide to rescind your refusal?"

She smiled up at him, shaking her head. "You're an evil man, Chase," she reminded. "If I found something truly noble about you, would you really want to know what it was?"

That prompted a rather terrifying shark-smile and an amused chuckle from the man. "No," he admitted, getting to his feet, "I suppose I wouldn't."

Amparo's smile brightened as he bowed again, this time without the mocking edge of before.

"Thank you, guardian. I am grateful for your assistance."

But before she could say a word in response, he was gone.

Where it had only been afternoon in Spain, Chase returned to late nighttime in the Land of Nowhere, feeling the fond nostalgia his volcanic palace never failed to inspire.

His return was without fanfare, but a mental summons had at least one cat scurrying up to him in the darkness of his foyer, the clicking of claws echoing on the marble floor.

"Ntombi," he greeted the cheetah, scratching her gently behind the ear.

_Welcome back, master._ She angled her head into his palm, squinting up at him. _You look exhausted. When did you sleep last?_

Chase tried hard not to roll his eyes. He must not have succeeded because Ntombi was now giving him a _look._ "It's been a few days," he said. "I've been busy."

_That's no excuse,_ and it was never harder to forget this cheetah was once a mother than when she was chiding him about his health with the mother of all mother-looks on her feline face.

Ordinarily, Chase would've had no interest in a woman such as Ntombi whatsoever. Many years ago, it had actually been her warrior _son_ he'd had his eye on for swelling his ranks.

However, the son had died after a battle from an infected wound and Chase had stuck around just long enough to see his mother vow to become an inyanga; a medicinal healer.

It just so happened that he had an open space among his subordinates for a healer and Ntombi had leapt at his offer to help her live long enough to learn all there was to know about herbs and medicines.

At times like these especially, it was essential to have such an expert on hand.

"You may lecture me later," Chase sighed, and he supposed he really was tired if that was all he had to say to his underling's nagging. "I have finished gathering the ingredients for the All Cure. You will prepare it and have it ready by morning."

_Yes, master._ She bowed her head, allowing Chase to drape the satchel of components over her neck and taking the drawstrings of the pouch he handed her in her teeth. _You're not a moment too soon._

Chase frowned. "Oh?"

_Your lover has moped the entire time you've been gone,_ Ntombi informed him. _As silly as it sounds, I think we'll all be happier when he's up and making dreadful messes for us to clean up again._

"Not all of you," Chase corrected. "Gabriel is still holding that grudge, isn't he?"

_Oh, well, can you blame him? He was sticky with post-it glue for days._

And as funny as that was, Chase could only muster a weary snort. "Go," he ordered the cheetah. "Prepare the Cure. I'll go and be certain that my dear apprentice hasn't gotten into any _more_ trouble while I've been away."

_And get some sleep!_ Ntombi called after him as he turned to walk away, and Chase could only roll his eyes again and continue on his way.

Typically, he would be able to find Jack down in his workshop, even at this late hour of the night because his consort had never understood or conformed to typical human sleeping schedules and the concept of night and day had very little bearing on him.

However, bad moods destroyed Jack's drive to create like nothing else could and if there was anything that could be said about his recent loss of voice, it was that it had caused a bad mood. It was likely that he would be in bed by now, possibly asleep or possibly moping like Ntombi had said.

Chase had been aware of Jack's general loquaciousness before the curse, certainly, but it wasn't until _after_ that he realized just how much Jack really talked—when the complete and utter silence had begun to feel like it was physically _grating_ on both of them after only an hour.

And where Jack broke things for awhile and then gave in to sulking, Chase became angry and resolute.

It went without saying whose technique got more done.

Silently sweeping into their bedroom, Chase's conclusion was substantiated by the outline of a body curled up beneath their blanket, utterly still save for the slight motion of breathing.

Jack had never been able to consciously master that kind of stillness: he was asleep.

Finally allowing himself to relax, Chase began stripping off his armor manually, finding the usual magical dismissal of it too much to bother with after that last bit of teleportation. It had taken much of his own energy to go globe-hopping without the Golden Tiger Claws and as much as Ntombi's advice had come off like nagging, it was sound.

Luckily, Jack was a heavy sleeper when it came to noise, because no matter how stealthy Chase happened to be, there was simply no way to remove a hundred or so pounds of metal by hand without making any noise.

Once the armor was off, though, and left (a bit haphazardly) strewn on the floor, it was much easier to slip off the rest of his clothing and join his consort in bed.

And if getting beneath the blanket and easing up to Jack's warm, pliant body felt more like a homecoming than his literal coming home, Chase very pointedly did not think about it.

Jack only started to stir when Chase's arms slid around him to drag him closer, because while he could sleep through sound, he didn't usually sleep through movement. He twitched and sluggishly started to pull away, but Chase held him still.

"Hello, Jack," he murmured softly, nuzzling a pale shoulder from behind. "Did you miss me?"

It never ceased to amuse the dragonlord, but when Jack was tired or just woken up, his thought processes were slow to the point of being _visible._ He watched Jack cycle through several different stages—'Who's talking? Oh, Chase. Miss him, was he gone? Right, yeah, but where'd he go?'—before the realization set in.

Jack shot upright in bed, abruptly much more awake than he'd been a second ago and fixing Chase with a simultaneously worried and hopeful look, helpless to voice any of the dozens of questions he surely wanted to ask.

Chase merely shook his head and pulled Jack back down to the mattress. "We'll talk in the morning," he said. "Go back to sleep."

The expression on Jack's face was a combination of disappointment and annoyance. Chase was fairly certain that if he _could_ speak, he'd snap something like, '_You'll_ talk in the morning, not me.'

As much as Chase would've liked to correct his consort on that, he knew it wouldn't do any good. The All Cure wasn't going to be ready until morning anyway and if he told Jack that he would be cured soon, he would probably end up too anxious and eager to get any sleep.

There was really no point in letting Jack hover over Ntombi's work when it wouldn't make it go any faster and after having been away, Chase much preferred to have Jack right here.

Wrapping his arms around him just a little more firmly, Chase pressed an affectionate kiss to his Jack's hair and settled in, content to sleep the last few hours of silence away.

**A/N: Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! May I present to you Crayola Magic Scent, D edition for your reading pleasure.**

**I have been doing a bit of writing in the spare time I've managed to find, and this is the proof of it. My original intention had been to get a whole bunch of Crayola colors done and post them all at once, but once again, I'm running into a length problem. All of my drabbles keep turning into ficlets, which take much longer to flesh out and get written!**

**It then occurred to me that even if I had several more segments done than I currently do, the length of the two finished ones I have would require them to be posted by themselves anyway- and since it's Valentine's Day and all the loyal Chack fans out there are so deserving of romantic gifts, I decided I might as well put up the chapter I have. :)**

**_Daffodil -_ An anjana is a type of fairy native to Spain, which is the origin of the daffodil. Aside from that, I wanted to explore the lengths Chase is willing to go for Jack's sake, even if he doesn't spout love poetry or scream his love from the rooftops. XD**

**Additionally, I have something of a head-canon for Chase and his relationship with his warriors that kind of informs my inclusion of Ntombi here. I figure his family life before turning Heylin was never great and obviously, it only got worse after. Then, when he started collecting minions, he basically ended up with his own little family of choice- but this one is completely loyal to him and under his control, which is great for Chase because of his _very_ apparent control issues.  
**

**That's all for Part 1, so feel free to head on over to Part 2! **

**Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! :D**


	13. MS: D, Pt 2

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Dirt-**_

Jack blinked and was momentarily confused to find himself staring at the floor.

It was not a familiar floor and that fact alone threw him, because he was familiar with many floors and this didn't particularly look like any of them. He stared at it a moment, feeling weirdly dazed and detached from his own body in a way that should really, probably be unsettling him.

"…ry disappointing, Jack," he heard from somewhere off to the side of him. "You barely even screamed. I'd been hoping for more of a show than this."

And the voice was definitely more familiar than the floor. He knew it and the name was on the tip of his tongue…

Pandabubba, which—

Oh. _Right._

"Sorry," he rasped as dryly as he could, and he really must have been screaming for his voice to be that hoarse. "I really meant to scream a little longer, but I think I might've _actually_ just blacked out for a second. My bad."

The kingpin only chuckled at him and now Jack could see him again, partially concealed by the flickering shadows. It was more embarrassing for him to watch than threatening, being so intimately acquainted with Chase's version of the same technique. The dragonlord was a master at blending in with the darkness, seeming part of it until the exact moment he chose to separate from it.

Pandabubba was just sort of _there_ in it and expected it to be scary.

Not likely.

"Flattering," the man said, "to know you're enjoying my hospitality that much, but I must insist you stay awake. I'm far from done with you."

"Yeah?" Jack grunted and rolled his shoulders, starting to feel stiff from the shackles that held his wrists above his head. "Thought you said this wasn't an interrogation." He very pointedly tried not to acknowledge the other uncomfortable sensation he could do nothing about; the sharp, gritty stinging just above his hip.

He must've made some motion favoring it, though, because Pandabubba smiled. "No interrogation," he assured before offering a knowing look. "I'd count yourself lucky that dirt was the only thing we had for that cut of yours. I can't imagine what you'd have done if we'd had any _salt._"

And that did not bear thinking about. At all. Nope. He'd already _blacked out_ when it was just what had to be the sandiest dirt in the world that wasn't actually sand. Salt was just…_no._

So Jack latched onto something else to keep his cool. "We? You got more than one of you in that powder-puff head of yours?"

That got Pandabubba to frown. He'd never particularly liked attention drawn to his odd appearance—which Jack had always found incongruous and hilarious because those fashion choices were designed to attract attention.

"I've had to recruit a bit of extra help for this latest endeavor," he said curtly. "Just a few faceless grunts to do the dirty work." The thought was enough to return the smug grin to his face as he intimated, "I believe you may have met a few."

It was a bit of a blur, but Jack did remember the 'meeting' he meant. When this was all over, Chase was going to _demand_ that he up his training schedule to something ridiculous like three times a day. With the incessant throbbing of his basically _everything,_ Jack probably wouldn't even argue with him too much.

"A dozen thugs seems kind of overkill for little ol' me," he declared as airily as humanly possible, "though I do seem to remember nailing one guy pretty good in the nuts. How's he doing? Impotent?"

But Pandabubba didn't seem all too concerned for the welfare of his minions. "Not as impotent as you," he smirked, "or have you already forgotten you're here at my mercy?"

"How could I forget? You won't shut up about it."

"Oh, but can you blame me, Spicer?" The bulky man came closer, within spitting distance and Jack made careful note of that. "I got one over on Chase Young. I stole his _precious_ student right out from under his nose."

"What _is_ the deal with that, anyway?" Jack wondered. "This is the first I'm seeing you in years, so I'm pretty sure it wasn't _me_ who pissed you off."

"Your master didn't tell you?" Pandabubba gave him a look of exaggerated sympathy. "And here I'd thought the two of you were so close. He doesn't even keep you in the loop."

Jack scoffed at him. "I'm his consort, not his parole officer. He doesn't have to tell me every damn thing he does and I wouldn't want him to. He's a mastermind—he's got at least a hundred different plans and backup plans going at any one time and really, I've got better shit to do with my time than read tactical briefings or whatever all day."

Obviously disappointed that he hadn't provoked a better reaction in his captive, Pandabubba nonetheless dismissed it and began to explain. "Your overlord is a dirty double-crosser."

And there, at least, was a reaction, though it was only a raised eyebrow. "Really?" Jack's tone was vaguely intrigued as he asked, "How's that?"

"He offered his assistance for a very important…job," the kingpin explained vaguely. "I was hardly going to turn someone with his set of skills down." He sneered. "I should have, though. It was a month before I realized he was playing both sides; giving trade secrets to a rival of mine. I lost _millions_ because Young went back on our deal, and—"

"Did you actually have one?"

Pandabubba paused. "What?"

"A deal," Jack clarified. "Did you actually have one?"

"Yes! He said he was on our side!"

"Did he, really? Or did he just kind of imply it and let you draw your own conclusions?"

Pandabubba frowned deeply. "He…Young was… What are you getting at?"

"Chase is evil with an honor code," Jack told him. "Everybody always gets so hung up on the 'honor code' part, they almost start to forget the 'evil.' He's got his own rules and morals, but after fifteen-hundred years, you can damn well bet he's fleshed out a million caveats and loopholes to every single one."

Jack fixed his captor with an unimpressed stare. "You did exactly what he wanted you to do: you accepted that he was on your side without asking for a show of faith. It didn't even occur to you to ask him to give his word, did it?"

Pandabubba didn't sputter, but it was a near thing. "Of course not! You can't trust someone to do what they promise! No one lives by their _word_!"

"Chase does," Jack said simply. "That's where you fucked up. You didn't try to make him promise you anything, so in his mind, he didn't owe you anything. Can't betray an agreement that doesn't exist."

Pandabubba fumed. "That doesn't change the fact that he nearly ruined me!"

"You brought that on yourself," the goth declared. "You're only this mad because you're just a pathetic teddy-bear freakshow excuse of a gangster who's too much of a wuss to go after the guy you _actually_ want to hurt."

The man was very still before him, reminding Jack weirdly of a coiled spring. "Is that so?" he asked coolly. "I think _you're_ just bitter."

"Bitter?" Jack frowned. "About what?"

"Perhaps the fact that you'll never have the same independent success that I do. You _can't_ ever have it, because you sold it. You signed away the rights to your own self for a chance to play kept slut to a backstabbing, two-faced, beastly little _chink._"

Abruptly, Jack remembered the distance between them—and was gratified to see Pandabubba recoil from the gob of spit that _just_ missed his eye.

He memorized the disgusted look as best as he could, but he didn't have much time to do so because the tension in the bigger man's body finally snapped. Jack's jaw made a very similar noise when Pandabubba's fist slammed into it hard enough to crack his head back against the hard stone wall.

Though he was dizzy and saw spots for a few seconds, Jack at least didn't black out this time. When he came back to himself, he spat again, but off to the side.

An unexpected clattering sound made him look closer at the spot of saliva and blood on the floor and he groaned at the sight of a tooth among the slime.

"Man," he muttered, "that was a canine. Those are my favorite teeth…"

"Shut up!" Pandabubba snarled at him. He took a few long moments to compose himself, breathing deeply and managing not to growl audibly as he wiped the spit from his cheek with a handkerchief from his suit pocket.

"I don't care what you have to say, Spicer," he said, voice low and threatening. "From this point on, your input is of neither value nor consequence. Your master crossed me and _you_ are going to pay the price."

If Jack were honest with himself, he was terrified by that. This obviously wasn't Pandabubba's first rodeo—he'd definitely tortured before. To make matters worse, Jack was going into it bleeding from two places, with liberal bruising just about everywhere else.

But he remembered Chase's teachings. Show no fear; admitting weakness gives them the upper hand.

So instead of crying or pleading, Jack was as aloof as he could possibly pretend to be under the circumstances.

"I don't suppose you'd settle for an actual _price,_" he quipped. "I'm rich as fuck: I _could_ literally write you a check."

"Ah, if only it were _just_ about the money," Pandabubba drawled, coming up uncomfortably close. "If it were, I definitely wouldn't do…this."

Jack watched warily as the man reached up to where his wrists were bound. He felt more than saw the big, meaty hand that wrapped around his right thumb.

The goth knew what he was going to do a split second before it happened. Wide-eyed, he met Pandabubba's gaze and saw the dark sadism that told him begging would have been pointless.

All it took was one sharp twist and tug, a horrifyingly practiced motion.

_Snap._

Jack screamed.

"There," the kingpin grinned. "Now, you won't be writing anything. Oh, but wait… You're ambidextrous, aren't you?"

Jack _almost_ opened his mouth to say no, just right-handed, but Pandabubba was already reaching for the left and he probably wouldn't have bought the flimsy lie, anyway.

Jack was increasingly glad that he hadn't even tried it when his other thumb cracked and the clenching of his jaw didn't guillotine his tongue.

But though he howled through his teeth at the break, at least it wasn't another scream.

"Much better. You know, this also has the added bonus that you won't try to pick any locks while you're here." He took a step back, watching Jack pant and try to shake off the pain with obvious amusement. "If I ever choose to let you go, you probably won't be able to build anymore of those robots of yours, either. Pity."

It took Jack awhile to be able to see without having to blink away the stars. His next words were probably inadvisable. "Sssssorry, what was that?" he hissed. "Couldn't hear you with all the bamboo you got crammed in your fat face…"

Pandabubba's amusement faded quickly. "A jab at my size? Hardly creative, but I suppose a little twink like you wouldn't know what it is to have weight to throw around. Would you care for a demonstration?"

The man didn't wait for confirmation on that. Jack gave a stuttering wheeze as a thick elbow _rammed_ into his abdomen with his captor's full weight behind it.

Unfortunately, Pandabubba's bulk was just a bit more muscle than fat—the hit easily forced the breath out of Jack and left him gasping helplessly for air.

Considering that he had also felt sort of a popping snap from somewhere in his chest, Jack numbly figured that had somehow compromised a rib, too. He couldn't tell yet whether it was just cracked or broken, and wouldn't _that_ be fun to find out the next time he had to actually stand instead of just hang there on the wall.

Either way, it made the coughing he did to catch his breath all _kinds_ of hell.

"Nuh…nice demonstration," Jack muttered. "Gonna show me your ballet routine next?"

And holy fuck, was he really still antagonizing his torturer? Bad Jack, _bad_ Jack, turn _on_ that brain-to-mouth filter, for fuck's sake—or better yet, _get_ one!

Pandabubba grabbed him by the chin for that and growled, "You're very funny, Spicer. Truly, one of your best qualities." His hand squeezed in a punishing grip and Jack had to fight hard against a humiliating whimper. "It's going to be your _only_ good quality once I ruin this nice face of yours."

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"Oh, yes," Pandabubba smirked. "I _will_ ruin you. Pale skin like yours is pretty, but it scars so easily. I wonder what your beloved Chase will want with you when your face is so mangled it makes common thugs and street brawlers _flinch._"

That was enough to make confusion take the edge over his fear. "What the hell does Chase have to do with this?!" he demanded, voice pitching a little higher.

"He's the reason you're in this mess, remember?" The kingpin's smirk broadened. "You're going to serve as a warning of what happens when I'm crossed."

"Oh my god…" Jack breathed, staring at him with vague horror.

Pandabubba reveled in the satisfaction of having made his prisoner realize his situation; having made him finally shut up.

It was a _very_ brief moment.

"You're a fucking idiot."

"_What_?!"

"No, no, wait," Jack said hurriedly as Pandabubba made a move to strike at him again. "I just got it! I know, it took awhile and I'm supposed to be a genius, but I'm being tortured, so I think I get a pass for this." He scoffed to himself and shook his head. "All this time, I thought I was your consolation prize, but you! You're doing this to me to get to _Chase_!"

"Of course I am," snapped Pandabubba.

"Yes," exclaimed Jack triumphantly, "and you're a fucking idiot! My god, that makes this so much more embarrassing. I got caught by a fucking idiot."

"What are you babbling about?" the man demanded of him. "How am _I_ an idiot?"

Jack laughed and then grimaced as the motion jostled injuries that ought not to be jostled. Though it was tight, he was still grinning as he proclaimed, "Because you think this is hurting him."

Pandabubba frowned. "You're his favorite whore," he said as if that explained something.

Jack shook his head again because it really, _really_ didn't. "Favorite and only," he affirmed, "but that doesn't mean anything. I mean, it does, but not here. Not for this."

There was no response to that other than an uneasy silence as it became apparent that the locus of power here was changing hands.

Show no weakness when you're not in control. Push your advantage every second when you are.

"Fucking _me_ up like this," Jack explained, "is not doing a damn thing to him. What did you think was gonna happen after this? Do you expect him to see me maimed and…I dunno, fall to his knees and _weep_? For the lost beauty of his greatest beloved or some shit?" He snorted loudly. "He's _Chase Young._ No fucking way."

"Just because he won't show pain doesn't mean he won't feel it," Pandabubba insisted. "You truly don't think it won't burn him inside to have you sent back to him mangled? Knowing it's _his_ fault you were destroyed?"

"But it won't! You're not getting it. He's a warrior _and_ a sorcerer," Jack happily reminded. "He knows his way around spells and potions and I know for a fact that he's got plenty of restoratives lying around. There's no way you can hurt him by hurting me because anything you can do…"

He cut himself off and started over. "Everything you've _done_: he can fix it. The cuts, the bruises, the broken bones… Hell, probably even the tooth! That's nothing for him."

"Is it nothing?" asked Pandabubba. "Will it be nothing to him to know that I'm doing these things to you on his watch?"

Jack rolled his eyes—this absolute moron still thought his plan was sound—and caught sight of a flickering torch on the dungeon wall. He almost rolled his eyes again just acknowledging the scenery because this was a real, bonafide _dungeon_ and that was just so painfully cliché. Pandabubba's insistence on Bond-villain-monologuing throughout only made it worse, undeservedly and unrepentantly smug over there in the light of that one guttering torch amongst its steadily burning copies.

…Oh.

Jack straightened in his bonds, feeling just a little bolder. "Fine," he said flatly, "I'll give you one thing: you got me. That's the one and only strike you've scored against him. You got past him to get to me and Chase? He's always been big on pride and honor and all that shit, so fine, that's something he's probably going to beat himself up over for a little while."

Pandabubba opened his mouth to speak, but Jack quickly cut him off. "The _rest_ of it, though? He's not gonna take it as a strike against himself. Everything else is going straight on you."

At that, Pandabubba just sneered. "Perhaps…provided he can figure out who took you—unlikely—or where—_impossible._"

For a second, Jack could only _marvel_ at him. "Jesus," he muttered. "You really believe that, don't you? You really think you're not gonna have to pay for this."

"And what makes you so certain that I will?" Pandabubba asked him. "Your precious warlord isn't here to save you, _Jack._ He isn't here to stop me, no matter what I do to you. Why would you assume he's even coming, much less that he can actually _find_ you?"

Jack almost felt like laughing again because the man was totally switching his tack. First, Jack had to be tortured because his pain would make Chase suffer—but now, Chase didn't care and wasn't even looking for him?

That wouldn't have worked even if Jack didn't know for a _fact_ that it was bullshit.

Maybe a year or two ago, though, he would've doubted a little. When he was still insecure with his place by Chase's side, always expecting to be tossed away like those days in his tweenhood and not yet understanding that when Chase gave his word and signed on with something, it was _real._

That time was past, so it was a nice try, but no dice. Jack was really happy about that, too, because if he'd wavered, it would've really screwed up the whole 'unconcerned BAMF' thing he had going on here.

He'd never _felt_ this cool.

"He's coming," Jack declared, "and he's going to find me. I know so because he's a vicious, vengeful, borderline-omniscient Heylin monster." He paused to smile beatifically. "And because he loves me."

Pandabubba barked out a laugh. "Love? You're delusional, Spicer. Evil does not _love._"

"Oh, yes it does," he huffed out in what was almost a laugh. "Like Chase had to tell me a million times before I got it, evil can love just as much as good and neutral can. What we feel, though…it's a hell of a lot darker than them. And sure," Jack allowed, "maybe that means Chase is never gonna call me cutesy nicknames or tell me how I'm amazing and he wants me to be in his life. But he doesn't have to tell me any of that. I _know_ it."

The look Pandabubba gave him was guarded, more than a bit wary. It seemed like he was finally catching on. "How?"

Jack's answering grin was broad and bloody. "Because we're evil and that means I get something _so_ much better than fluff and sap. It means that he's going to keep me and protect me with _everything_ he's got and _anyone,_" he spat, his tone a practically gleeful growl, "who's _dumb_ enough to fuck with me anyway? Is going to be begging for a quicker death!"

Pandabubba stared at his captive, ill at ease with the manic glint in his red eyes. Jack was acting as if he were in control, as if he knew something and the kingpin's experience informed him that _that_ never bode well.

It made him a little nervous, but logically, he knew he had nothing to worry about. He had been clever in taking Jack and hiding him away here—he was the only man alive who even knew of this location! Chase Young would never get the chance to enact the retribution his consort was promising on his behalf.

And that was, of course, the moment when Chase Young bled out from the darker shadows of the dungeon, purring, "Well said, Spicer…"

Jack sniggered meanly at the stricken expression on Pandabubba's face as he sucked in a breath, practically skittering back and away from where the goth was chained to the wall.

"Take notes, you furry bimbo," he happily jeered. "_That_ is how you pull off that particular party trick." There was a vaguely serene sense about him as he then turned to his master. "Hi, Chase. Thanks for coming."

Chase openly snorted, taking several long strides forward. From behind him poured at least a dozen human-formed warriors to whom he paid no heed. "Don't be stupid," he snapped, sounding insulted. "It wasn't nearly as difficult to track down this trash as he seemed to believe."

Around him, the various men and women in Chase's employ attended to their duty—securing the room, halting Pandabubba's escape, restraining him, and silencing him when he started to speak—but Jack only had eyes for his master.

"So I guess you did hear some of that," he said, acknowledging Chase's apparent awareness of the conversation before his appearance.

Chase frowned. "Of course I heard. I had thought most of your discourse was aimed at me. You didn't know I was here?"

Jack only shrugged. "I was _pretty_ sure, but it wasn't a hundred percent until you started screwing with that torch."

"Hmm," was the noncommittal response and Chase reached out, wrenching the iron shackles away from Jack's wrists with one hand, helping him down to the floor with the other.

His eyes narrowed at the sharp hiss Jack let out and the dragonlord's grip automatically gentled. His face was another story entirely, going flinty and cold as he turned to glare at Pandabubba.

"Tell me, Jack," Chase demanded. "What, exactly, am I going to have the pleasure of punishing this wretch for? In addition to stealing you in the first place."

Jack was sure to make eye-contact with Pandabubba, hoping to remind him of the look they'd shared when their positions were reversed and Jack had been the one about to experience a severe amount of pain.

"Well," Jack began, making no secret of his enjoyment of this, "his goons kicked me around for awhile before dragging me here. Do they count as part of it?"

"They're going to," Chase said simply. "It's much too late to punish them individually. I was…_very_ eager to find you. Their boss shall simply have to pay for their crimes."

Jack smiled so hard his cheeks hurt. "Awesome, 'cause he knocked me around a little, too. He did…_something_ to one of my ribs, and he punched me in the face when I mouthed off."

Gloved fingertips prodded experimentally around Jack's torso. "Cracked," Chase murmured distractedly as his consort winced. "What do you mean, 'mouthed off'?"

"I spat in his face," Jack said proudly. "He was trash-talking me and then he called you a chink, so…obviously."

That startled a laugh out of the warlord. "Well, you're certainly happy to be a tattletale, aren't you, xin ái?"

"Whatever gets his ass in the hottest water." Entirely shameless, Jack continued, "I want full, unadulterated payback for the broken thumbs and this totally-gonna-get-infected dirty cut over here."

Chase saw the spot Jack gestured to, a small bloody smear on his shirt. Quite a bit of his amusement faded to something darker. "Understandable. Is there anything else I should know about, or is that all?"

"When he punched me, he knocked out a tooth." Jack gave him a demonstrative smile. "See?"

And Chase saw. His only external reaction was to blink and it made Jack want to cackle out loud.

Chase was always so calm, so in control of everything—even his own expressions. For him to be so _blank_ could only mean terrible, horrible, hilariously great things for Pandabubba.

"I see," the dragonlord said aloud, tightly, carefully blasé. He gave a small nod and a familiar, dark-skinned man came over, sheathing his wood and obsidian sword to leave his hands free to grab Jack.

For his part, Jack didn't fight it and let himself be led a bit away.

"Diol will escort you home," he was told. "You will find several potions waiting to heal your injuries, though you will be waiting a bit longer on that tooth. I'm afraid I didn't anticipate the need for a dental restorative."

Jack already knew the answer, but he had a feeling Pandabubba didn't, so he asked the question anyway. "What about you?"

"I'll be here," Chase assured, "proving to this vermin what a portent your words about a _slow death_ were."

Jack happily grinned his missing-tooth grin at him, his cruel delight obvious. Just thinking about what Chase was going to do to the bastard who'd dared to lay hands on his consort…

_That_ was exciting.

"Be sure to tell me all about it when you're done," he entreated eagerly.

But Chase shook his head. "Now, Jack, you _know_ I can do better than that," he said, sounding disappointed. He smiled at Pandabubba, still mute and restrained by his warriors. "What would you like for a souvenir?"

Jack made a show of considering it. "Mmmm… Oh, just a tooth, I guess."

"You don't sound sure."

"Well, I was thinking…" He sighed dramatically. "I don't know, is the whole head-on-a-pike thing too tacky these days?"

That was enough to renew Pandabubba's struggles, making muffled noises of denial. That just about settled it right there, but Chase answered his consort anyway.

"Some philistines might say so," he said blithely, "but it's really very hard to go wrong with a classic."

Finally, after his excessively long day, Jack broke enough to laugh. It hurt the cut on his side and his cracked rib and his sore jaw and his bruised everything, but it was pure relief and it felt _good._

He made no argument to stay and watch. Fully planning to guzzle the nasty-tasting concoctions that would fix his body and pass out for a few hours, Jack allowed Diol to easily herd him out of the room.

His only parting shot to his master was a flippant, "Have fun!"

In response, Chase gave a slow, wicked smirk, stalking towards where his warriors held Pandabubba. "Oh, don't worry," he said, already savoring the growing fear in the man's eyes. "I will…"

**A/N: Part 2 here!**

**_Dirt -_**** Pandabubba is kind of an obscure villain, but that's exactly why I figured he would be the type to pull something like this. He's pretty low on the Heylin totem pole, probably looking for a little more sway and notoriety, and scoring a hit against Chase Young and his apprentice could conceivably give him that. Additionally, the plot of this one is something I've wanted to do for a long time: putting Jack in a disadvantageous position and showing him stay strong and keep his cool even though he's terrified. Naturally, Chase is his motivation to hang in there. XD**

**Anyway, that's about all I have to say in regards to my own work, so to everyone out there, have a great Valentine's Day, whether you have a significant other or not! **

**Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! :D**


	14. MS: E

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Eucalyptus-**_

It was only around 8:00 at night on the fourth day when Jack finally decided it was time he gave up.

Really, he'd tried—harder than he'd ever tried at most things in his life—but this was just _so_ not working.

But his surrender didn't mean he had to like it or anything about it. Consequently, Jack was sure to sweep the elaborate, delicate project he'd been tinkering with off the table and straight into a wall.

The metallic crash it made was satisfying, if aggravating, but the whole stupid thing was a lost cause, anyway. It was way too intricate for his damn clumsy fingers to handle.

The very _thought_ of being so utterly useless in his own element…

Jack suddenly wished he had taken his time wrecking what was now a useless pile of metal shards. You can only really destroy a thing once, and he was still way too frustrated for having nothing else around to take it out on.

Naturally, this was the ill-timed moment that one of his robots chose to float up to him.

"Master Jack?" it asked carefully. "Are you alright?"

Red heat flared up in him and Jack snorted scornfully. No. _Fuck_ no, he wasn't alright, just fuck _off,_ already.

But he didn't say that, especially once he noticed that it was JB-13 who'd dared to approach him. He still felt it, but he didn't say it.

"M'fine," he all but growled. "Clean up the scrap heap and shut everything down until tomorrow."

"Have you finished working for tonight?"

"Well, I'm about as finished as I'm gonna to get, aren't I?!" Jack snapped, and then immediately regretted it at the throb of pressure behind his eyes. He sighed and rubbed at his face. "Yeah, 13, I'm done. I need…fuck, aspirin or something. Sorry."

"Apology accepted, sir," was all the robot said regarding that. "We'll take care of things down here."

Jack wordlessly waved him off, already headed upstairs.

Mostly on autopilot, he had to spare at least a little of his attention towards figuring out where the hell he was going. Chase's palace was _huge_ and, as Jack had found out the hard way once or twice, very easy to get lost in if you weren't careful.

He'd been living here awhile now, though, so he was pretty sure of the route he'd have to take to quickest get him to his room.

Even as he thought it, Jack amended it—the _spare_ room, because he hadn't really been living there since he'd moved his things into Chase's bedroom—but it was still the place he'd been sleeping for the past couple of days.

It also happened to be where his medicine cabinet and consequently, his aspirin were. Of course, Chase's room had its own medicine cabinet, much larger and more ornate than Jack's and probably with much better and more effective stuff.

But the only problem with that was, Chase would notice if things started to go missing from there, so to his own cabinet it was.

About halfway there, however, in the middle of the dining room, Jack came to an abrupt halt.

This may have had something to do with the way the dark room suddenly flooded with light and a rush of sound as the chandelier and every single candle on the table simultaneously roared to life with flame.

Jack couldn't help the strange noise he made, somewhere between a snort and a squeak, but he did his best to rein back the rest of the reaction that wanted to come as soon as he realized he was not alone in the room.

At the head of the dining room table, in his usual chair, was Chase. Staring directly at him. Not saying a word.

_Fuck._

Jack carefully cleared his throat and congratulated himself when it was only trepidation that made his voice crack as he said, "Oh, hey, Chase…"

The slow smile Chase gave him was _not_ a good sign. "Hello, Spicer," he calmly greeted. "Why don't you sit with me awhile?"

Nope. Bad idea, awful idea, Jack had to _leave,_ ASAP. Unfortunately, it would be an even worse idea to try and just run from Chase Young, which meant weaseling out of whatever the hell this horribleness was the old fashioned way.

"Uh…actually," Jack began, "I was…_am_ kind of tired, and I was just heading back up to my room so I could—"

The pastiche of a smile fell away. "_Sit. Down._"

Jack dropped into the nearest chair, roughly in the middle of the table. "Absolutely," he agreed with a nervous smile, "sleep's overrated, sitting is obviously better. Love to sit, favorite past-time, I could sit for hours."

Chase grinned at him again, apparently pleased. "I'm glad to hear that. I had thought we might…talk for a bit."

Oh, that did not sound good. "Talk, sure, that's…great! Um. What…about?"

"I suppose nothing in particular," said Chase, crossing one leg over the other. "It seems as though it's been awhile since we've last spent any time together."

Right on cue, there was a wash of guilt for that. Jack didn't _like_ being away from Chase so much, but the man wasn't stupid. He was going to find out eventually, but if Jack stayed away, he might not put things together until after, when it wouldn't matter anymore.

All Jack had to do was not slip up and make 'after' come sooner.

"Yeah," he admitted, genuinely contrite. "It has been awhile, hasn't it? I'm sorry, I've just been kinda busy lately and—"

Chase cut him off. "Perhaps that has something to do with wherever you've been going so frequently?"

Jack didn't miss the blatant accusation in the question and he winced. Maybe Chase had _already_ put things together.

_Double_ fuck.

But there was no way in hell Jack was going to out himself on this. Whether Chase knew or not, Jack was going to wait until he said it directly. There was no reason to let himself get spooked by a few probing questions and admit to everything if Chase didn't _for sure_ know something.

So, he took a deep breath and hoped against hope he'd be able to bullshit his way out of this.

"I've been home," Jack told his overlord. "Mom got back from London a couple days ago and she kept insisting I come over."

Jack was able to say all of this with a straight face because every, individual thing he'd said was true. Every time he'd left the palace in the past four days, his destination had been the Spicer mansion, and every time he showed up there, his mother fussed over him quite a bit.

Whether or not she was the one he went home to see was a different story—and one that Chase didn't need to know.

Chase gave him a long, considering look and then frowned. He definitely knew Jack wasn't telling him the whole truth, but he had nothing to call him on, either.

Apparently, he compromised by asking, "And how is Sylvia? Well, I hope."

"Oh, yeah, she's fine," said Jack. "I mean, you know how my mom is. She misses me, still. I think she wants me to move back in, but I told her I'm good here."

"Are you certain you don't want to?"

And that was enough of a curveball that all Jack could ask was, "What?"

"Move back home," Chase clarified, interlacing his fingers and settling them atop his knees. "You've been going so often and when you _are_ here, I don't seem to see you, anymore. Have you considered that if you miss living there this much, it might be better for you to move back?"

Jack felt a rush of alarm and heat at the very insinuation that left him vaguely dizzy. "No," he muttered numbly. "What are you talking about? I'm your consort. I live with you."

Something in his response was not what Chase had expected. Jack could tell by the way Chase only watched him for a moment and blankly said, "Hmm. So you do."

Jack was liking this conversation less and less by the second because his confirmation of the position he held at the dragonlord's side should _not_ have been unexpected. Fully aware and unable to stop it, Jack felt his hackles rising.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Chase coolly assured. "Though, as my consort, I've noticed a distinct lack on your part of fulfilling your duties."

Jack blinked and shook his head. "I'm not a good enough fucktoy for you?"

"The duties of a consort are to provide sex _and_ companionship," Chase reminded him. "The last few days, I haven't seen much of either. When you're not finding some excuse to avoid being in the room with me, when you're even _in_ the palace at all, you're begging off from my bed with headaches."

Jack scowled and speak of the devil, there was an answering pulse in his skull reminding him exactly what this whole thing had waylaid him from. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize 'not getting headaches ever' was part of my job description."

"Four headaches in as many days?" Chase wondered. "It seems a bit unlikely. Not to mention that having a headache should in no way force you to retreat from my very presence as if it were abhorrent to you—or have I been imagining you sleeping in an entirely separate room these last few nights?"

Jack's fear at being caught had long since faded. Chase was…_insinuating_ things. Things that made Jack's fists clench at his sides, his breath come a little heavier, and the heat in him start to boil over.

Or least those things were _part_ of what made that happen.

"You're getting at something, Chase," Jack snapped. "Just say it."

"What I'm getting at, Jack," Chase snapped right back, tightly-controlled anger in his tone, "is that you seem to be disconcertingly cavalier about our 'relationship' as of late, and that _irks_ me. After all, wasn't it you who always pushed for more?"

Chase stood from his chair and began walking closer. "When we were nothing, you pushed to be my apprentice. When you were my apprentice, you pushed to be my consort. When you were both, you pushed to be my lover…and I allowed it. I let you become all of these things because I was under the impression that you weren't about to grow _bored_ of it."

He sneered down at Jack. "I had thought you were _serious_ about this, Spicer, but if our relationship is just the same to you as one of your little projects that you can leave off on a workbench somewhere while you try to muster the drive to care about it again, I'm going to have to reevaluate all of it—and I don't _like_ to be so grievously wrong."

Jack sucked in a breath, through his nose because for a few seconds, his jaw was clenched so tightly shut he could swear it creaked. He let it out slowly and steadfastly refused to make eye-contact with Chase.

"Are you serious?" he asked quietly. He didn't receive an answer and he shot to his feet quickly enough that his chair was knocked backwards, hitting the floor with a loud clatter. The noise only aggravated Jack's headache and standing up so fast had made the room spin a little bit, but he locked his knees and didn't so much as sway.

Instead, he asked his question again, this time practically roaring, "Are you fucking _serious,_ Chase?!"

"I am."

"Well, so am I!" Jack barked. "How could you even _say_ that I'm not?!"

"What else am I meant to suppose when you can no longer seem to stand the sight of me?" Chase was so cold and clinical, and it just pissed Jack off more. "If I didn't know better, I—"

"_Fuck you!_" And that shut Chase up for a second. "Fuck you for even thinking that, Chase. Jesus, if it wouldn't break my hand, I'd punch you in the _face_! Of course, I might have trouble _finding_ it considering how far your head seems to be wedged up your own ass!"

Jack saw Chase's expression darken and he spoke faster, knowing he might not have much time to say his piece.

"I can't believe you think that _little_ of me. Chase, you're…fucking _everything,_ but I'm gone a couple days and all of a sudden, I'm _bored_ of you?! That's bullshit, _you're_ bullshit, that's not… That's not at _all_ what…"

And shit, sentences were getting hard. Jack was breathing, but he had to do it slow and now it was getting shallow and that wasn't doing him _any_ favors. He tried to ignore the way everything wobbled weirdly and stayed loud as he pushed forward.

"You're such a self-centered… Can't believe you… you'd… You're being an ass! I'm _yours_! I'd never—!"

The sentence cracked from the volume, and Jack suddenly remembered the consequences of taxing his voice too much.

The coughing fit hit him hard enough that he actually _staggered._ He tried to suck in a few breaths in between, but the wracking coughs were too close together and the most he could get were a few reedy little gasps.

Jack keenly understood the meaning of the phrase 'hacking up a lung' for a bit because it was really starting to hurt his chest, but he couldn't _stop._ He tried anyway by slapping a hand over his mouth, but of course, it didn't do any good. The coughs just kept raking their way out of his throat.

Instinctively, he hunched forward, trying to curl in on himself, but that turned out to be a bad idea too when the floor seemed to buck under him—and then he was hacking and sputtering flat on his ass.

By that point, Jack was only vaguely aware of his surroundings, but he'd have needed to be a lot more insensate not to notice the fact that Chase was somehow suddenly a lot closer than he was a second ago.

Close enough, in fact, that when he turned to face him, his cheek brushed against the cool metal of his breastplate, which was wonderful beyond words. Really, if it weren't for the fact that Jack was trying to maintain _some_ dignity after having so fantastically slipped up in front of Chase, the goth might've been tempted to just grab his master by the shoulders and nuzzle every inch of his near-icy armor.

No dignity to be had in that whatsoever, but with how goddamn hot it was in here, it would feel _so_ good.

Eventually, Jack's coughs slowed considerably, or at least enough for him to notice that Chase had hands on his hips, pulling him into the dragonlord's lap. Naturally, Jack felt no particular drive to fight it and for the second time that day, surrendered entirely.

Totally limp and leaning against Chase while the last few coughs rattled out of him, Jack closed his eyes and wondered if he was still angry or just mortified, now.

They opened again very quickly when he felt Chase's lips on his forehead.

He went still and felt a brief stir of warmth that wasn't as uncomfortable as the rest of the heat bearing down on him. Before he could stop the totally inappropriate thought, it drifted through his head, anyway.

_Oh my god, that's adorable._

Thankfully, Chase himself saw fit to debunk that very weird sentiment by announcing, "You have a fever."

That was about when Jack remembered Chase was wearing gloves and couldn't have tested his temperature any other way without ripping one of them off. Jack was more relieved than he would verbally admit to by that. They were _not_ that kind of couple, really.

Jack paused upon realizing that the body against his had just gone completely rigid. His eyes flicked up to where he figured Chase would be and was just in time to see him wiping a hand over his mouth, glaring suspiciously at a smear of white on his fingers.

Shit. The jig really _was_ up, wasn't it?

Chase proved him absolutely right on that by grabbing his face in both hands and rubbing hard. In Jack's opinion, it was much harder than necessary considering that Jack was so totally not fighting him anymore and that the white face-paint he was wearing put up even _less_ fight.

Between the lights and this fucking fever, the stuff had already been an inch away from sweating off all on its own.

Chase stared at him for a long moment, taking in the sight of his damp cheeks, flushed bright red beneath the thick white of the paint.

"You're ill," he said at last. "That's what you've been hiding."

And really, Jack felt this was self-evident but even so, he confirmed, "Yeah."

Instantly, he cringed at the hoarse rasp of his voice but he was distracted from that when he actually _felt_ a massive amount of tension drain out of Chase's body.

Jack hadn't realized Chase had barely been touching him until the man's arms wrapped fully around him, just shy of crushing him to the warlord's chest. Chase's fingers were soon in his hair, somewhere in between clutching and stroking.

"Jack," he growled in his consort's ear and there was relief in it, which, what? "_Jack._"

Jack couldn't help but sound vaguely perplexed even as he apologized. "I'm sorry? I mean, I didn't want you to know… I didn't want _anyone_ to know because it looks bad and I'm not supposed to… But I didn't think you'd think I was bored of you! I'm not, I'm definitely not, and if you want that in writing or something, just—"

"Shut up," Chase ordered, gently but no less of an order. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm sick," Jack reiterated. "And I'm your apprentice. I've been a part of high society my whole life, Chase, I know how big a deal image is, and you're the most powerful man in the world and how does that look when your 'star pupil' gets taken down by a fucking flu? It's _embarrassing_ and I—"

Jack stopped speaking immediate when Chase raised a hand.

"Correct me if I misheard," he said. "You have the flu?"

"Yeah."

"For how long?"

"This would be Day Four."

"So, you've been severely ill for _over_ seventy-two hours," Chase concluded, "and you decided your best course of action was to _actively_ hide this from me."

Jack grimaced. "It wasn't… That's 'cause…"

"Because it would _look bad._"

"And it's embarrassing," Jack added. "I couldn't even make a circuit board earlier 'cause my hands kept… I'm totally useless, even at the thing I'm supposed to be best at."

The dragonlord didn't respond for a long enough time that Jack looked up at him again.

"Chase?"

Chase slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "I was merely trying to reconcile the fact that my supposedly genius consort is actually a dangerously irresponsible moron."

Jack stared at him and squeaked out a, "What?"

"You kept your illness a secret from _your overlord,_" Chase said pointedly, scowling. "You risked your health in more than _one_ way by arousing my suspicion, and all because you didn't want it to reflect badly on me—a man notorious for caring less than nothing of what the various peons of the world think?"

Jack was silent. He was for the first time thankful for his fever in that it made it impossible to tell just from looking that he would have been blushing right then.

Even so, Chase seemed well enough aware of it. "Moron," he repeated flatly.

And Jack still had nothing to say to that because in hindsight… Well, _yeah._

Chase just sighed. "I suppose it shouldn't surprise me," he muttered. "You have a precedent for making terrible decisions about your health."

"I'm sorry?" Jack tried again. "I…thought I could handle it?"

Even to his own ears, that sounded weak and Chase confirmed it for him with his response: scoffing and rolling his eyes.

"All the more fool you, then," he said, bending to brace his shoulder at Jack's middle.

Realizing that Chase was about to sling him over his shoulder and _really_ not wanting to find out how much worse the pain in his head would get if all the blood rushed to his brain, Jack moaned, "Oh, please don't, I'm 'faking' another headache right now."

Chase paused and for a second, Jack was sure he was about to be carried off like a sack of potatoes purely out of spite for the jab.

In the very next moment, though, Chase smoothly rose to his feet, his consort cradled like a bride in his arms. "Forgive me," he said coolly, "I had thought you might object to being moved this way. Too embarrassing, perhaps?"

And okay, point-for-point on that score, so Jack just ducked his head and didn't say another word as Chase began carrying him towards their bedroom.

Or at least, not another word until the awkward silence practically _forced_ Jack to speak up again, at which point he mumbled, "Okay, so…maybe the image thing wasn't…the whole reason I didn't say anything…"

"Oh? Do tell." Naturally, Chase's tone was far from encouraging, but Jack went on anyway.

"I get the feeling I've had more than a lifetime's worth of disdain from you already," he pointed out. "Maybe the last thing I wanted was to get whatever your approximation of pity is. I mean, can you even _get_ sick?"

"That's an even _more_ foolish reason," Chase told him curtly. As he came upon the bedroom door, it swung open for him and locked itself behind. "You're mostly mortal, still—I can hardly fault you for succumbing to mortal illnesses. And to answer your question, I can, though it can't be done by natural means. Only mystical or supernatural diseases have affected me since I became Heylin."

"Fucking figures," Jack muttered, fixing his overlord with a strange look when the man set him down on the mattress and then began removing his clothing. "I can undress myself, y'know."

"Can you?" Chase wondered, glancing up from where he was unbuckling Jack's boot. "I'd recklessly thought you capable of seeing to your own well-being only a few minutes ago. I'd hate to just assume."

Jack sighed and flopped back against the bed. Chase's bed was awesome and his sore, aching body had _missed_ it these past few nights. "I said I was sorry," he whined. "What else do you want me to say? And for the record, I _was_ seeing to my well-being. Fucking pills and doctor consultations and everything."

When Jack looked over at him without bothering to sit up, he saw that Chase had raised an eyebrow at him—in addition to having removed his pants already which, damn, he was good at that.

"That's who you kept leaving to see," Chase inferred. "A doctor."

"Family doctor," Jack elaborated, feeling a bit like a dead fish as he just laid there and let Chase peel off his shirt and coat. It took him all of a few seconds to decide he kind of liked being a dead fish if it meant he could get away with not moving. "Known the guy since I was three. Most doctors say they won't make house-calls anymore, especially not cross-continent house-calls, but for a Spicer? You bet your ass they will."

Chase made a decidedly noncommittal noise and nudged Jack over on the bed so he could pull the sheet out from under him and then drape it over.

"Stay," he said firmly as he disappeared into the adjacent, cavernous bathroom.

Jack snorted and rolled onto one side. "No need to tell me twice."

He then closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax as he started thinking of all the ways he was going to make this up to Chase later—because he was under no delusions that he wasn't going to have some serious groveling to do for even _attempting_ to deceive his overlord.

Just as he settled on the idea of fantastic 'please forgive me' sex and even more fantastic 'I was wrong, I'm sorry' cupcakes (which were always Chase's Achilles heel, make no mistake), Jack startled back up at the sound of ceramic on wood.

"I told you to stay," was the next thing he heard, one of Chase's big hands pressing down on his sternum.

"I am staying," Jack protested, glancing over at the small jar Chase had apparently just set on the bedside table. "What's that?"

"See for yourself."

Chase's fingers dipped into the pot, coated in a purplish paste that Jack assumed it was best not to think about, especially as it was soon being spread onto his forehead. Thankfully, though, whatever it was absorbed quickly into his skin without leaving any weird residue.

Jack opened his mouth, and his words dissolved into a sigh of pure relief when the vice-like pressure behind his eyes was abruptly _gone._

"I _knew_ you'd have better shit," he practically groaned. "Aspirin was barely making a dent in it, the last day or two."

"Yes," said Chase, "and just think—you could've had this _four days ago_ if you hadn't been so pigheaded."

Jack quickly shut his eyes so Chase wouldn't see him roll them. "Am I ever gonna live this down? Be honest."

"Unlikely," and at least Chase was leveling with him. "Certainly not in the next week or so."

"Guess I'm lucky I've literally got the rest of forever to try, then."

Silence and Jack looked up to see Chase staring at him, utterly unreadable.

"Chase?" he prompted, hesitant.

Chase blinked, his expression shuttered. "Nothing," he said, and it wasn't very convincing but the firmness of his tone meant that Jack wasn't about to call him on it. "I suppose I'm just…impressed. Against my will."

"Impressed?" Jack tilted his head. "By what?"

"You," Chase told him. "That you managed to hide your illness from me for even this long."

"Don't take it so hard, it wasn't even _close_ to easy," he muttered. "I self-medicated to keep the symptoms down, and the make-up so I wouldn't look…off around you, but there was a reason I made myself so scarce. Any guesses as to how long it took you to put it together?"

Chase frowned, not following. "Four days."

"Two hours," Jack corrected. "I kept track—that's how much time we've spent in the same room since I got sick. It took you two in-person hours to catch on and totally bust me."

And that…seemed to appease Chase, at least a little bit, and the dragonlord fully joined him on the mattress.

Jack snuggled up to Chase and was deeply, insanely relieved when Chase's arm curled around his shoulders. It meant that his master wasn't so mad at him as to withhold physical contact, which had always been a particularly scary kind of mad.

Of course, cuddling with a fever wasn't exactly pleasant. Chase's body, now sans the armor and gloves, was roughly the same temperature as his own skin. That gave Jack a pretty good idea of how hot his fever was running if he was on par with Chase, whose superhuman metabolism made him burn hotter than the average human.

Still, after the kind of things they'd been snapping at each other earlier, Jack didn't mind the mild discomfort if it meant being close to Chase for awhile.

"I suppose that explains the showers, too."

Jack raised his head from Chase's chest. "What?"

"Your excessive showering," Chase clarified.

"It wasn't excessive."

"Three times a _day_?" Jack lay back down under the critical look. "But it makes perfect sense if you didn't want me to smell your sickness."

"…that," said Jack, "would've been a really great idea."

Chase frowned. "It wasn't intentional?"

"My temperature wouldn't stay in one place!" Jack objected. "I kept getting chills, and warm water feels good for awhile until I start feeling the fever again, and then cold water keeps it down… I kept flip-flopping." Sheepishly, he added, "Plus, y'know, I just felt gross. Sweat. Ick."

Chase just scoffed in disbelief. "Truly, the luck of fools."

Jack laughed, because he could do that now—laugh about dumb things he'd said or done without it feeling like an attack on his self-esteem—and grinned up at Chase.

"Honestly, I didn't think I'd get away with it this long either," he admitted. "I know there were a couple times I was holding back a cough or I needed to touch up the paint and I could've _sworn_ you were onto me. I didn't even cover it well, I kind of just ran out of the room and hoped you didn't follow me." Jack snorted. "I guess I was pretty lucky, there."

But Chase shook his head. "That wasn't luck. I miscalculated."

The smile dropped off of Jack's face because Chase's tone was _way_ serious all of a sudden. "Miscalculated?"

"I _was_ onto you," Chase said. "I knew you were hiding something. I never went after you because I was angry where I should have been concerned."

"Angry…that you thought I wasn't feeling the spark with you anymore?"

The attempt at levity fell flat. "Angry because I thought you were 'feeling the spark' with someone else." Chase stared at him, almost indifferent. "I thought you were having an affair."

It felt for a second like the air had been vacuumed out of his lungs. "_What_?"

"Were you not aware of what your behavior looked like?" Chase asked him. "Avoiding me, sleeping in a different room at night, leaving at odd times every day—that one was particularly abnormal considering how rarely you left the palace before."

"Chase…" Jack breathed, wide-eyed with shock.

But Chase continued on as if he hadn't heard. "The showering didn't help your case any. It made it seem as though you had something to hide. You did, of course, but you concealed the only innocent explanation for it."

"Oh my god, _Chase._" Jack sat up, horror and desperation written all over his face. "You can't think… Holy shit, I didn't. I would _never._ You…you're…Fuck, I _wouldn't,_ you have to know that, not now or _ever_!"

"I know," Chase said simply, pulling his consort back down to his side. "I know you couldn't have and your reaction is good assurance that you won't ever. But you can see what it would look like without the flu explanation."

Jack latched onto Chase. "I'd have to be brain damaged to even _want_ to step out on you," he said fiercely. "And that's totally ignoring the fact that it would actually be suicide to cross you like that. I like my life, thanks."

"I'll keep that in mind," Chase wryly told him. "Don't assume I think you as untrustworthy as when you were a child. It actually has very little to do with you. I am centuries old and in all that time, paranoia has served me well in maintaining my status. I knew very quickly that you were up to something and the signs simply fit too well."

"I get that," said Jack. "But…you didn't follow me when I left the room. You _couldn't_ have been watching to see where I was going, either, 'cause if you had, you'd have known what it really was. Why didn't you?"

"Spy on you? I should have."

"But you _didn't._"

Chase let out a heavy exhale, absently stroking Jack's arm. "If you _had_ been…" he began slowly, "I didn't want to see it."

"You wouldn't have," Jack reminded.

It was Chase's turn to roll his eyes. "Yes, thank you, that's long since been established. When it had seemed a likely possibility, however, it was _not_ something I wished to lay eyes on, but I couldn't just ignore your behavior. I am no one's doormat and I cannot sit idly by if I suspect someone might be making a fool of me."

Jack frowned, but concluded, "So, you confronted me instead. You wanted to make me slip up so you could catch me in the lie." The 'as opposed to catching him in the act' went duly unsaid.

But Chase nodded. "And I did catch you in your lie. A completely different lie, admittedly, but I much prefer you hiding your illness to you having so little respect for your overlord and your life as to give your body to another behind my back."

"Not gonna happen," Jack repeated, clinging tighter. "If it ever did, you wouldn't need to trouble yourself—I'd probably kill _myself_ out of the sheer humiliation of getting to be with you and then fucking it up for somebody…not-you."

Chase laughed softly. "You have a ways with words, Jack," he said, and then he leaned over and kissed his lover.

Jack eagerly returned the kiss once he remembered what Chase had said about being impervious to mortal disease. After a second or two, he was no longer reeling from the near-miss of that huge misunderstanding and he had a brief, totally nonsensical thought of writing odes to his overlord's highly distracting mouth.

Chase pulled back, looked deeply into his eyes…

And just as it looked like he was about to say something painfully sappy and romantic, he wrinkled his nose, asserting, "That's another reason I suspected you: you taste strange."

Jack blinked. "Strange how?"

"I haven't been able to put my finger on it," Chase admitted, "but it's not usual."

Thinking about the (infinitely mundane, thanks to this cock-blocking flu) list of things he'd put in his mouth the last few days, Jack eventually came up with, "Cough drops, maybe? I was popping 'em like candy the first day or two, but I brushed my teeth pretty thoroughly, I thought—"

"Also very suspicious," Chase cut in.

"—that I had gotten rid of the flavor," Jack finished sourly.

Chase considered this. "The artificial flavoring, maybe." He dipped down for another kiss, tasting Jack's mouth again. "Yes, that's it—eucalyptus oil."

"Which…is in cough drops?"

"In small quantities," Chase said. "Normally not enough for me to notice it, but if you were taking _many_ of them…"

"Okay, so there: mystery solved. Is that the last one," Jack wondered, "or do I have anything else I need to clear up so you're absolutely sure I am neither losing interest in you _or_ cheating on you?"

Chase shot him a sideways look. "You wouldn't have needed to clear _anything_ up if you hadn't tried to hide things from me in the first place."

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but Chase surprised him and added, "However…your failing is not the only one in this incident. I should not have let my suspicions get to this point."

And that was…just, _wow._

"The only thing I hate more than being wrong is failure. _This,_" Chase declared, "nothing even remotely _like_ this is going to happen again. Do you understand that?"

Jack had only actually had this relationship with Chase for a little over a year. There were deep, serious, messy feelings involved—and Jack knew that there were, because otherwise, Chase wouldn't have even considered making him immortal—but they weren't totally on the same wavelength just yet. There were still places where they didn't quite know how to fit with each other, like this whole fiasco had handily proven.

But Jack was confident that he knew enough about Chase to understand what he meant.

Coming from anyone else, 'this won't happen again' might be the equivalent of, 'I'm sorry I didn't trust you' or 'I'll work harder on learning to communicate with you.'

From Chase, it was two things.

First, it was a thinly veiled threat to Jack to never, ever do something like this again. Jack was totally on-board with that because he wasn't any good at hiding things from Chase anyway, and if it had the consequence of making his master think of something as totally out of the realm of possibility as an _affair,_ then yeah, keeping secrets was a terrible idea. Jack was well past the point in his life where he'd make the same mistake twice.

Second, it was a promise from Chase that _he_ wouldn't be making the same mistake twice, either. That meant the next time Jack came under suspicion for whatever reason, Chase wasn't going to jump to conclusions—he was going to _investigate._ Following, interrogating, liberal use of the Eye-Spy Orb; all of that and probably more were now firmly on the table to provide Chase with all possible information in a situation where Jack might look guilty.

Jack smiled, because that should freak him out, and _would_ if he were a normal non-Heylin guy. Instead, he was just flattered that Chase was willing to go that far to exonerate him, coming from a lifestyle where one was always guilty until proven innocent.

But he understood, so he agreed, "Not gonna happen again."

Chase seemed to realize that he really _did_ get it and was noticeably pleased. "So glad we understand each other," he said, back to his charming, evil self now that business talk had finished.

"Speaking of understanding…" Jack interjected, and immediately, he had Chase's calculating focus once again. "I'd just like to put it out there that if this whole 'secret flu' thing is allowed to slide, I would be more than willing to never bring up the fact that Chase Young ever went off on something half-cocked."

It wasn't blackmail, because Jack meant it between them, since it was already a given that none of this would be spoken of to anyone, anywhere, at any time.

Chase's response was to look at him a second longer and then touch a hand to his forehead.

"You still have a fever," he noted. "Only thirty-eight degrees now, but it was probably much higher before. You couldn't have been in your right mind and who can say how long your decision-making was impaired?"

Jack grinned, happy to snuggle back up to Chase. "It's a good thing I've got you around to keep me from doing stupid shit."

"You're a very lucky man," Chase agreed.

And boy, did Jack know _that_ for sure. "Yeah," he said, "I really fucking am."

**A/N: See what I mean about that length problem? Singular colors are now getting their own posts, simply because I know for a fact that I'd be forced to post it by itself anyway, even if I waited until I had more prompts written. This one clocked in just shy of 20 pages. XD**

**_Eucalyptus -_ Early serious-relationship Chack and misunderstandings! As far as the Crayola series goes, I'm mostly placing it within a context of pre-established Chack, but every now and again, I like to play around with pre-Chack and as in this prompt, new-Chack. Also, I sometimes like to explore what it means for the relationship when both participants are evil and (frankly) very badly-adjusted people, so there's a little bit of that in here, too. ;D**

**Also-also, I always tread a very thin line when I'm trying to figure out how to write Chase's characterization because if I go too fluffy with emotions, he's not Chase anymore, but if I can't establish that his feelings exist, it's not Chack anymore. So, as always, I did my best at that. :)**

**And in case some Fahrenheit-using readers are confused, Chase is talking about Jack's temperature in Celsius because the U.S. is pretty much the only place that still uses the former.**

**Anyway, that's that! I'm probably going to be posting Crayola stuff in this fashion for a little while- individual prompts posted a little more quickly- unless that really bothers anyone and you'd rather I post big-huge-chunks (likely separated out into chapters anyway) after longer waits. Or at least, I'll probably be doing that until I hit the 'L's of the Magic Scent collection, because there's only one color per letter whereas there's six 'L's in a row.**

**No matter what I end up doing with it, though, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! :D**


	15. MS: F

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Fresh Air-**_

Every time. _Literally_ every single time.

Chase had thought he'd have learned the lesson by now, but it seemed that arrogance was shaping up to be his greatest vice.

Every time he managed to underestimate the Xiaolin monks, they found an inconceivable way to rip the rug out from under him somehow.

It was especially jarring for Chase to realize it had happened _again_ when he was still internally reeling from the last time they'd done it, but at least today it wasn't psychological warfare.

He found himself staggering back a single step and quickly moved to control it, falling to one knee in the dirt rather than end up on his ass before his enemies.

Chase cursed himself again for being so godsdamned distracted that he'd let himself take a hit from the monks' newly uncovered magical toy. As a tingling sensation spread throughout his chest and he felt himself unintentionally sucking in a strangely burning gasp of air, he only cursed himself more and remained hyper vigilant to the rest of his body.

It would be just typical that the Shen Gong Wu he'd been tagged with would do something stupid and foolish, like adding extra appendages or changing his shape.

If it did, Chase was absolutely going to find out where Dashi was currently haunting the mortal realm and give him _such_ an earful.

Apparently, though, he wasn't the only one waiting in suspense for something to happen.

"So…" Kimiko began slowly, "did anything happen?"

It was Clay who held the scuffed, dirtied, shapeless Wu, looking shell-shocked and perhaps even a bit chastised under the cold look Chase shot him. "I…I dunno," he mumbled. "I didn't even mean ta'… I just sorta…"

Instinct. Chase supposed he could understand that and he decided he probably didn't need to go after the cowboy for it. Intentionally using an unknown Shen Gong Wu on someone, even an evil someone, and Chase would've absolutely harped on the dangers and unintended consequences of that, but instinctively?

There was nothing to torment the monk with, and consequently, no need for Chase to bring it up. No movement wasted was the creed of an apex predator, after all.

"Are you sure you cannot remember anything about this Wu?" Omi asked with a look at Dojo and Chase resisted the urge to roll his eyes, because that was just wonderful that even their puny pet-dragon had no answers.

At the very least, Chase no longer felt as off-balance as a few seconds ago, so he rose to his feet again to resume a stronger stance.

As he idly dusted off his armor, he heard Dojo apologetically whining, "Not really… I mean, this one is _old!_ Plus all the records of it were destroyed and have you seen the thing? It looks a hell of a lot like somebody wanted it to disappear, whatever it did."

"_Way_ weird," Raimundo muttered and then called over to the warlord. "Hey, Chase! Don't suppose you'd tell us if it did anything funky to you?"

Chase sneered. "I'm touched by your concern," he said with liberal sarcasm. But then, he added, "It was odd for a moment, but other than that, I feel no differently."

…what?

"Seriously?" Rai asked with a frown.

Chase frowned too. "I…did not intend to volunteer that information," or _that_ information, he added silently, and yet he'd said it anyway.

"You okay?" Clay wondered, looking concerned as he clutched the anonymous Wu.

"I had thought so," Chase found himself admitting. "Now I'm not so sure."

"Oh!" Dojo loudly exclaimed and suddenly, all eyes were on him. "I remember this one, now— it's True Breath!"

Omi tilted his head. "What does it do?"

"It makes you say whatever's on your mind whether you want to or not," Dojo explained and Chase just barely tamped down a horrified expression. The dragon snickered as he went on, "It was kind of funny what happened to this one! Some punk kid wanted to be a Xiaolin master, but the True Breath made him admit he only wanted in for the glory and he got kicked out. He threw a total tantrum and stormed off like a two-year-old!"

"I guess that explains what happened to all the records," said Kimiko.

"And the _Wu,_" said Clay, grimacing at the mangled, unrecognizable state of the thing in his hands.

But Rai was grinning, looking far too excited to possibly bode well.

"So, Chase," he started. "You're just saying the first thing that pops into your head?"

Chase scowled. "It appears that way."

"Then, I guess if I asked you something really personal that you normally wouldn't answer like…oh, when you decided you were into dudes?"

"It wasn't something I _decided,_ it simply _is,_" Chase replied, "and my attraction to others is not dependent on their sex, anyway—or any of your business."

The dragon of wind looked thrilled and his fellow monks were beginning to share the expression.

"An' if I asked ya' if ya' had any secret evil reason for showin' up today…?" Clay wondered.

"I currently have nothing in the works, but I find it keeps you on your toes and guessing if I come to challenge you every once in awhile."

Ever the idealist, Omi piped in with, "Will you ever give up your life of Heylin and come rejoin the side of righteousness?"

Which was something he didn't mind answering perfectly truthfully, with a snort and a, "That shall never come to pass, I give you my word on it."

And then Kimiko asked a question. "I've been wondering about this since we all found out," she said. "How's your boy-toy in bed? Is he just as hopeless at sex as he was at everything else?"

Raimundo made a face at her. "Aw, come on, Kim," he groaned, "we don't need to hear that! Keep your yaoi fantasies online where they belong!"

"Actually," Chase cut in, feeling vindictive on his consort's behalf, "Spicer has become very capable in the bedroom activities you're referring to since I took him as mine. As for being 'hopeless,' that's hardly a term that applies to him anymore now that he's being hand-trained by the greatest martial arts master in the world. It seems obvious to me that he has already reached your level of proficiency—and surpassed it on occasion, or have you already forgotten the times he proved as much to you lot?"

"Ugh. Yeah, okay, Jack's an awesome booty call," Rai said. "We're all very happy for you. Let's move on, already."

But Chase was decidedly _not_ moving on. The monks and the dismissive way they still spoke of Jack…it was reminding him of the last time they'd thrown him off his footing.

When they had implied he was using Jack as little more than a glorified sex-toy.

It had been a throwaway comment, so seemingly insignificant that Chase could no longer remember the exact wording, but the _sentiment_ – that had stayed with him.

It was Clay who had noticed Jack's absence at the Showdown, though Jack's absences as of late had not been unusual. He had matured much in the last handful of years, and the projects in his workshop were often more important to him than squabbling over Shen Gong Wu. It was simply a natural progression for one who had access to Chase's limitless resources, magicks, experience, and teachings to re-prioritize magical trinkets as the toys they were rather than things of great value.

But then Kimiko had commented, something to the effect that Chase was keeping Jack shut up in his palace, implying that it was a kind of imprisonment.

That had startled Chase, because of course, he had no intentions of holding his consort _anywhere_ against his will and Jack knew he was free to come and go as he pleased.

Raimundo had responded to Kimiko's comment with agreement, though, and the gist of it was that of course Chase had to keep Jack locked up, or else he might get away before the Stockholm Syndrome set in.

That had only thrown Chase even more. He had been off his game for the entire Showdown to the point that he nearly _lost_ and in the weeks that followed, he kept returning to the thought.

Of course his relationship with Jack was nothing like that. Jack was not his prisoner or his slave, he was his _consort_! His _apprentice_! The monks had no clue what they presumed they knew so much of.

…but he couldn't seem to let the thought go and the longer it stayed, the more the doubts began to creep in.

_Did_ Jack realize he could do as he liked in Chase's keeping? _Did_ he realize where he had come to stand with Chase, by his master's side and not under his foot?

These questions and a thousand more like them stayed with Chase day after day, only multiplying the longer he considered them.

Subtly observing Jack's behavior had been unable to give him any answers and a direct confrontation was out of the question because…

Well.

Chase had always been far too versed in techniques of trickery and obfuscation to ever fully suppress them. He sincerely doubted he'd ever had a completely honest conversation in his life, even prior to becoming Heylin, and there was simply no other way to obtain the answers he would need from Jack than by making himself open and vulnerable so that his consort would be able to do the same.

His own failings had practically _clawed_ at him in the days that followed that revelation. There were things that Chase had been…fairly sure Jack understood about what they had, but now, he didn't _know_ and he would never find out because his very nature made a straightforward discussion about it impossible.

It was part of the reason he had been appearing at Showdowns a bit more often than usual, as it was almost a relief to get out of the palace for a few hours and do anything besides think about something so frustrating.

But even here, the monks had reminded him of it.

And they had also tagged him with an object that forced him to speak his mind.

Everything Chase was saying at the moment corresponded precisely to his thoughts and feelings, completely ignoring the matter of his pride and intentions.

"Okay, so, Chase," Raimundo spoke, looking eager again, "what is _the_ most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to you?"

But Chase shook his head again. "I don't have time for you," he said simply, _honestly._ "I need to find Jack."

In a swirl of magic, he was gone, deaf to the disappointed moans of the Xiaolin monks.

Only a second or so later, he reappeared in his palace on one of the lower levels—the space he'd given to Jack to use as his lair-within-a-lair.

The goth still hadn't made much progress in the honing of his tiger instincts yet, and so he was totally unaware of Chase's presence. He was instead leaning over the open chassis of one of his robots, whistling a decidedly jaunty tune as he played around with its wiring.

Jack was in a good mood. Excellent, he might be a little more pliant than if he were in a more sour temper, when he was prone to tuning out everything his overlord said and bitching over whatever had pissed him off until he had fully vented.

That in mind, Chase stepped forward out of the shadows of the workshop. "Jack."

"Gah!" Predictably, Jack startled backwards, nearly falling off of his stool before Chase reached out to steady him. Jack shot him a mildly annoyed look. "You need to wear a bell," he declared.

"That wouldn't help you," Chase told him. "I can teleport and I've long since mastered the art of moving silently. A bell on me wouldn't ring unless I wanted it to."

"Yeah, that figures," Jack grumbled. He then turned back to his robot and resumed whatever he had been doing before Chase's entrance. "So, what's up?" he wondered. "I thought you were screwing with the monks today."

"I was," Chase confirmed. "I came back because I was hit with what is, in effect, a truth ray."

"Oh." Jack paused, considering it. "Yeah, okay, don't want to spill any need-to-know info to those losers, that makes sense."

"No. Well, yes, but that isn't the only reason. We need to talk."

Jack stopped tinkering altogether. He turned to look at Chase with an expression of total dread and dismay.

"Holy shit," he said after staring at his master for a long few seconds. "That is literally the worst thing anyone can say to anyone, Chase. In fact, I'm pretty sure it may be the most horrible phrase in any language ever. …although, maybe R'lyehian has some worse ones, but if there's a way to say that phrase in R'lyehian, too, I would rather just be eaten by Great Cthulhu now."

Chase smirked. "That's hardly a fair reaction. You haven't even heard what I want to talk _about._"

"No, but I have no context for that statement being used in any kind of situation that isn't terrible." Jack plugged a few things back in and shut the open chest-cavity of his machine, watching it come back online and hover off to take care of some duty or other. "Can you promise me this isn't gonna turn into one of those bullshit, 'it's not you, it's me' speeches?"

"Yes, I can." Because if there were any problems with their relationship, it would absolutely not be bullshit when Chase said it was him, not Jack.

"Alright," Jack said reluctantly, peeling off his rubber gloves, "but I reserve the right to run away with my fingers in my ears screaming, 'la la la, not listening' if it gets too real for me."

Chase immediately twigged to Jack's use of humor as a defense mechanism. Was it just his usual avoidance reaction to heavy, serious topics of discussion, or was he really so insecure in their relationship that he felt threatened when Chase said he wanted to talk about it?

Damn it all, he couldn't tell.

"Are you satisfied?" Chase asked plainly.

Jack frowned deeply, and the process of clearing the work table of his tools slowed down considerably. "Yyyyyyyyyyyesssssssssss?" he answered hesitantly. "I mean…like, what are we talking about here? Is this a sex thing, or…?"

Chase shrugged. "We can start there, if you'd like."

Jack's face fell. "'Start'," he echoed, "oh boy. I am not gonna like this discussion. Yeah, everything's perfectly all right," Jack continued breezily. "We're fine. I'm fine, thank you. How are you?"

Chase's lips quirked up a bit. "Han Solo won't save you from this conversation."

Finally getting all his tools squared away, Jack shot back, "Solo couldn't even save _himself_ from that conversation."

"Jack," and the sharp, flatness of the tone was enough to get Jack to make eye-contact, finally. "I'm serious."

Jack sighed. "Ah, fuck. Okay." He rubbed a hand over his face. "Could you be more specific, then? 'cause I'm not really sure what you're fishing for."

"You wanted to start with the sex," Chase reminded. "You're pleased with those goings on?"

"Yes," Jack answered with no hesitation. Then, after fully processing the question, he amended, "_God_ yes. I have no complaints whatsoever about our sex life. Jesus."

Jack's vehemence on that was…a good sign, but it still wasn't everything Chase needed to hear from him. "No complaints at all?"

"What the hell are you…" Jack trailed off, looking at his overlord as if he were some kind of puzzle. "_Should_ I be having problems?" he demanded incredulously. "I didn't realize your self-esteem was that low, but if you seriously need me to tell you that you're capable of satisfying me sexually…"

"This has nothing to do with my capability," Chase assured him. If it did, there wouldn't _be_ a discussion. "It's more about the method, I suppose. Our approach to sex is…not what one could consider conventional. I typically take the lead in determining how our sexual encounters play out, while you take a more passive role. It isn't an even distribution of power."

But Jack did not treat this as new information. He nodded slowly, sounding confused as he said, "Uh…yeah? We have kind of a dom-sub thing going on, I thought. I mean, not that I've had one with anybody _else,_ but I'm pretty sure that's how it's supposed to go?"

Chase watched as Jack's cheeks turned a little pink as he elaborated, "The dom, that'd be you, takes control and…has the power and me, I'm the sub, and I…give you that power and we…um…do stuff? Shit." Jack cut himself off, looking like he wanted to hide his face in his hands. "I can _do_ this, but talking about it is…. Okay, this is awkward to say, Chase, have I explained it good enough or do I have to make it even _more_ awkward and keep going?"

Taking pity on his consort, Chase said, "No, that will suffice. That is our current arrangement. You are content with it?"

"Yeah," said Jack, sounding less embarrassed, but no less confused. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've never wanted to do anything differently?" Chase prompted. "Perhaps take on the power-role for yourself? Maybe do something in an entirely different context altogether?"

Jack just looked at him. "You're a major control-freak, Chase," he pointed out. "Are you even _capable_ of letting someone else take the reins?"

Chase opened his mouth to say that he wasn't asking about himself, he was asking about what _Jack_ wanted, but the goth cut him off.

"No," he said, "never mind, don't answer that, it doesn't matter. Even if you could, I'm not really… I don't want to… I mean, I-I like what we do, you're good at it and it's…pretty hot."

Chase raised an eyebrow and Jack's cheeks flushed closer to red.

"Okay, I don't totally expect you to understand it 'cause you're the dom—you're all _about_ being in control. I'm more into…the exact opposite of that."

"Giving up control," Chase inferred.

"Yeah," Jack agreed, apparently relieved that he had been understood and was not being asked to justify it. "I'm not a natural with this stuff. It's…nice to not have to worry about what I'm supposed to do all the time because you take the lead and just tell me what you want."

He grinned, almost shyly, up at Chase. "And y'know, you make being dominated…_very_ sexy. Probably 'cause you're you, and you're Chase Young and you could do whatever you wanted to me and I would just have no other choice but to…" Jack's tone dipped a bit lower, his eyes glazing over a bit as he paused to picture it. Whether he was aware of it or not, his tongue darted out to lick his lips before he finished, "Lie there and take it… Hey, you remember those cuffs you got me awhile back? The nice ones with the padding and the silk lining? I miss those, like a lot. Can they make a comeback? Because seriously."

Abruptly, though, Jack remembered what they had really been talking about and his demeanor made the incredible swing back from smooth and sultry to awkward and stilted that had always boggled Chase's mind. "Uh…yeah," Jack said curtly, clearing his throat and blushing as hard as ever. "I'm not gonna lie: that stuff is… is a turn-on. For me."

It was reassuring that Jack could speak of their sexual encounters with excitement and anticipation. But Chase still had to ask.

"And you've never worried that one day, I'm going to make you lie there and take something you don't want?"

Jack blinked at him, eyes huge and almost as doe-like as they'd been in the goth's prepubescence. "Huh?"

Chase knew he was totally incapable of saying things that were untrue at the moment, but that didn't mean he had to blurt out everything all at once. He took a moment thinking on how to _properly_ phrase the things he wanted to say—and simultaneously pulled a stool to him and sat down.

He had a golden opportunity of unimpeded sincerity here, and the last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize it by looming over Jack, risking the possibility that such a stance might be intimidating or leading.

Chase crossed one leg over the other and decided he had a fairly good place to start. "I…pay very close attention to you when we have sex," he said. "I watch for the little things—your body's reactions, your instinctive movements, the things you do without even thinking about it. I've had much practice with it over the years, so I've gotten good at reading unspoken cues. I do it especially with you because you're fascinating in your passion, certainly, but also…" He frowned. "Also because I'm frequently unsure if you would ever speak up if you weren't enjoying something."

Jack's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, but Chase didn't let him interrupt. "You tend to be very submissive with me, and of course, I enjoy that being who and what I am, but sex is supposed to be about _sharing_ pleasure. As far as I'm concerned, it's worthless if we aren't both enjoying something. I fully intend to keep tracking your responses to me, but… I wanted to be sure that you know you _can_ say something if you want to."

Jack held up a hand. "Okay. Hang on. _Whoa._ Just…_no._ Which, by the way, is obviously a word I am capable of saying if I don't wanna do something, or if I completely, totally, straight-up disagree with something. Which I do. Right now. This, what you're implying, I disagree. So, _no,_ you don't have to tell me I can say no, 'cause if I wanted to, I'd have said it."

If Chase were honest with himself, the sheer indignation of Jack's tone was throwing him a bit. "It's a valid concern," he pressed. "You've _never_ said no to me before—"

"Because I didn't want to!" Jack exclaimed. "Plus, you've said _how_ many times that you're disgusted by the idea of rape? And you think I would have heard that and then just let you do something to me that I didn't want without saying _anything_ and make you into the thing you _hate_? No," he decided firmly. "I wouldn't let you do that to me, and I wouldn't let you do that to yourself."

Jack sighed and fixed his overlord with an earnest look. "Chase. I want to be with you in as many ways as possible, and if I didn't, I promise I'd tell you so. You've never done anything to me I didn't want you to do." He paused a second. "Maybe some things I hadn't _thought_ of before, but trust me, I was on-board every step of the way."

Undeniable relief, but, "I've never pushed you?" Chase wondered. "You've never felt you had to do something to please me?"

"No way," Jack assured. "You've always kind of known where my line is without me having to point it out to you and you've never crossed it. I mean, I remember when I first figured out what kind of relationship we have and I did some research on the BDSM stuff and… Okay, honestly, I was a little nervous because I like the dom-sub part that we do, but I've been kicked around enough to know that I am _not_ a masochist. Pain is, like, the last thing that could get me off and I kinda pegged you for a sadist…"

"I am a sadist," Chase told him, "_outside_ of sex. _During_ sex, I only experience those tendencies when my partner is a masochist and genuinely enjoys it. Otherwise, it's only torture and while I'm good at that, too, it doesn't arouse me."

"Right," nodded Jack. "So, I was worried for a bit that you might try to get me to do that stuff, but you never said a word about it or tried to get those kinds of…toys…involved, which is really great because I would bet you money that if I had ever seen a whip in the bedroom, I'd have probably _freaked._"

"Your skin is too delicate for a whip," Chase agreed. "Anything in that vein would probably be too much for you. Your sensitivity automatically precludes most pain-play, and even if it didn't, you wouldn't enjoy it."

"And you get that, so you're not gonna push me on it, so we're cool," Jack concluded.

"I respect your boundaries," Chase promised. "I respect you. I realize in the beginning, it may have seemed that I…didn't. What we had was only an arrangement, so I treated you the same as I always had." It went without saying that such treatment was only ideal for a casual acquaintance that wasn't particularly well-liked. "I imagine…I'm certain that hurt you at times."

"Well…a little, I guess," Jack admitted, "but I was used to a lot worse from you? I know that sounds bad, but I was one annoying thirteen-year-old and I pretty much stalked you back then. I'd have been mean to me, too. At least then, you never roughed me up to try and teach me a lesson like everybody else did. Later, after we…hooked up, I guess? You were a lot less harsh, just…kinda rude sometimes."

"Dismissive," Chase said. "I was dismissive of you. We only had sex at first, and I didn't see you as anything truly worthy of my respect. But I was slower to change than what you were to me. Before I was really aware of it, I'd made you my consort, and then my apprentice, and then… I saw that you had become much more than an arrangement."

He studiously avoided eye-contact as he declared, "I… have been trying to do better by you, because I want you to know that you're not _only_ my subordinate, you are my partner now. I don't want you to feel…intimidated by me."

Jack gave an amused snort. "Hey," he said, "I am _so_ not afraid of you. If you do something that pisses me off, I will absolutely call you on it. Do you not remember last week?" the goth wondered. "I honest-to-god _yelled_ at you over Oreos: does that sound like something somebody who was even remotely intimidated by their partner would do?"

Chase remembered that argument and no, it didn't sound like that at all. It was a stupid fight, and a stupid thing to pick a fight _about_ and if Jack were really terrified of him, he'd have let it slide. Instead, he'd gotten in his overlord's face and barked out a list of cookie-etiquette that was apparently not being followed and there had better be some changes around this damn palace or _else._

Yet while it was a nice thing for Chase to hear, because he didn't _want_ Jack to be afraid of him, it wasn't really a weight off his shoulders because it wasn't a _reassuring_ thing to hear, either.

"You _should_ be intimidated," he said plainly. "Perhaps you forget because I look it, Jack, but I'm not human. Even interacting with me is dangerous for you, and you've chosen to become _intimate_ with me. I don't want you to fear me, but I think I would feel better if you did."

"Well…I kinda fear you, I guess," Jack tried, and it was clear that he wasn't entirely getting it. "I'm not gonna go out of my way to piss you off, but that's just like, common sense fear."

"No. _Jack._" Chase reached out and gripped his consort's knee, making Jack stare at him in surprised uncertainty. "Have you truly considered how hazardous it is? To do what you're doing with someone more than three times as strong as you are? And not only that, but with someone who has lived at least fifteen times longer than a man is meant to live?"

A smirk came over his face, without an ounce of mirth in it. "I've had _more_ than enough time to pick up tendencies that could hurt you, Jack. You've been mine only a few years, and you've already experienced most of them for yourself. I'm possessive and jealous and to make those worse, _paranoid._" He made sure to hold Jack's gaze, because it was something he had to impress upon him that, "I would never _consciously_ injure you or cause you any kind of pain…but you have to remember that I also happen to have a literal feral side with much less impulse control. If you were afraid of me, at least, I would worry less for your safety—these are things you have to consider."

Jack settled a hand over Chase's. When the dragonlord looked back up at him, he instantly frowned.

Probably because Jack was looking at him with fond compassion bordering dangerously close to condescension.

"Chase," he said, trying and failing to fight down a smile. "Baby. Honey. Sugarpie. I know what I've gotten myself into with you. Did you completely forget how we met? When one of the first things I ever said to you was that I was pretty much your number one fan? Chase, I know all _about_ you."

Chase continued to frown, but figured it was a testament to how deeply Jack had ruined him that he didn't even comment on the nicknames. "Do you really?"

"Fuck yeah, I do," Jack proclaimed proudly. "I still have _stats_ memorized. I know how fast you can move per second, the kind of pressure you can exert on an object in pascals, how many tons you can deadlift to a third decimal—and this is all approximate, unfortunately, because I'd calculated it and I thought it was exact, but people aren't the same as machines and sometimes, they outperform expectations. I've seen you go the extra mile once or twice on sheer will power alone, which kinda fucks up all my math because how do you even quantify that variab—"

"You should be terrified," Chase interrupted, eyeing Jack incredulously. "Knowing what I'm capable of shouldn't be _exciting_ to you."

"But it's cool!" Jack insisted. "_You're_ cool, the stuff you can do is pretty damn impressive. I'm not even into the biological sciences and I still have days where I want to strap you down to a lab table and study you 'til I figure out how the fuck you work. You defy human limitations and that's pretty kickass, you gotta admit."

"Knowing the numbers won't help you!" Chase snapped. "You said it yourself—I am not a mathematical equation. I cannot be quantified. Simply having a rough idea of my abilities tells you nothing of _me_ and how I might use them should I ever lose control."

"Maybe not," Jack allowed, "but I've been with you for a couple years now, and even before that, I still had plenty of time to think about what all that cool stuff that makes you superhuman has done to affect _you._ I was a tween when I was obsessed with you, remember? It was that dumb, angsty phase where everything is really deep and meaningful if you just _think_ about it, man. I didn't need to be with you to know that being a teenager forever had to have played hell with your head at times because I _thought_ about it. I thought, 'Jesus Christ, being exactly the same for years and years and years, I'd probably lose it,' and I bet you have at least once or twice."

Chase…very purposefully did not acknowledge the inference and Jack's hand squeezed his.

"See?" Jack said. "I probably get more about you than you think. All the crazy shit that goes on in your head 'not meant for mortal eyes' or whatever, it's not news to me and I'm not freaked out by it."

Chase pulled his hand back. "And the things that translate from my head to my physical form? Are you so unperturbed by _that,_ too?"

"Okay. I'm not gonna bullshit you on that– your lizard form is…well, yeah, pretty scary." Finally, some _sense_…or maybe not, as Jack firmly continued, "But I'm not some wilting flower who's gotten in over his head, okay? Don't insult me. I'm made of stronger stuff than that. Y'know most people probably wouldn't even be able to consciously _accept_ the fact that they were boinking a man older than their great-grandpa who can also, incidentally, turn into a giant human reptile-thing, and I've definitely come to terms with that one. Give me a little credit, here."

"I am," Chase assured, "I do. You've been surprisingly stoic about this whole thing, but it isn't you I'm worried about. It's you that I'm worried _for._"

"For fuck's sake, you can't be this insecure."

"_Pardon_?"

"So, you've been hit with a truth ray or whatever," Jack said. "Fine. But you cannot tell me all the confidence you have in your skills is just one big act."

"It isn't!" Chase exclaimed, startled. "I'm _highly_ skilled!"

"I agree!" Some of the condescension in Jack's tone was back as he went on, "You've got a fuckton of skills and you're you, which means you've got 'em all sharpened to laser-precision because you're the best and you've gotta stay that way. That means you have _control,_ so all this freaking out you're doing—and yes, it's totally freaking out, Chase, I know what that looks like, believe me—about how you're going to suddenly lose it and hurt me doesn't make any damn sense. I trust you 'cause I've _seen_ how crazy good your control is: you can punch holes through walls with a flick of your wrist and then turn around and touch me light enough to leave goosebumps. You can obviously handle yourself!"

And when Jack put it that way, Chase felt a bit less…concerned (_not_ freaked out!) about it.

His consort was absolutely right. He had long since achieved mastery over his own body, his own _self,_ and it took massive, apocalyptic amounts of stress and rage to push him past the limits of control these days.

Yet where Jack was involved, every test of his control was beginning to feel like too much of a risk with too much to lose should he slip up, however slim the possibility. Perhaps he wouldn't _ever_ get over that feeling, or at least not completely.

"Besides," Jack continued, oblivious to the changing direction of his master's thoughts, "I've been navigating your labyrinth of unique psychoses for long enough to get how you work and at least _some_ of how you think. You're not alien to me anymore and I think I know where all the landmines are now so I can avoid them. As for your dragon-form, I've had a couple run-ins with you when you're like that and ever since we got together, it hasn't been as scary as it used to be."

"Hasn't it?"

"Nah," shrugged Jack. "Obviously, you're no puppy, but I don't get the mindless killing machine vibe from you anymore. Your scent's all over me these days, and I think that's what makes you less aggressive at _me_ specifically, since you obviously wouldn't fuck your prey. The rest of it is just being aware of my body language and throwing out a couple of submissive gestures to prove I'm not a threat, either, and I'm golden."

Chase wasn't entirely certain he was capable of pity anymore, but if he was, perhaps that was what he was feeling for Jack.

"You shouldn't _have_ to go to that kind of trouble to 'navigate' me," he said simply. "Among my other character faults is selfishness, so I wouldn't breathe a word of this to you under any other circumstance, but having this with _me_…There are easier options available to you, Jack, ones that don't require such high maintenance—such as choosing to be with nearly anyone else in the world. You claim to be a genius. Has it really occurred to you that _I_ am not an ideal choice of mate? Or more importantly, that I am not your only choice?"

"Fuck," Jack said on an exhale. "You weren't kidding. This really is serious relationship shit, huh?"

"I'm not about to let you run away with your fingers in your ears, if that's what you're getting at."

Jack laughed. "No. I mean, hell yeah, I _so_ want to, but if this is the kind of stuff you've been thinking, I need to not leave this room until I make you see reason."

Chase stared at him.

"Okay, Chase, you might wanna brace yourself because I've got a couple bombshells to drop on you. Point A," Jack declared, "'Byronic hero' does not look good on you at all."

"What?"

"Sure," Jack continued, "you're attractive and charming and intelligent, and that's fine, but when you start in with all the brooding martyr crap… It's not you, Chase, and it's weird."

Again, Jack was right. Chase had never been one for self-sacrifice…so what in all the hells was it about _Jack_ that brought it out in him?

"Point B, you actually _are_ my only choice of 'mate,' but," Jack emphasized, "that's not because I don't think I can get anyone else. I probably could—I'm smart and sexy and okay, I've got some dork-DNA working against me for a 'normal' relationship, but there's plenty of dorks and nerds and weirdos out there who might just take that as a bonus."

Chase felt his jealousy rearing up in him like a jet of flame. He firmly pressed it down by clenching his fists and his jaw, even as he gritted out, "You _should_ find one of them."

"That's just it, though, Chase," Jack said urgently. "I don't _want_ any of them. I'm not even looking because you're it for me. I love you, so I don't _want_ to be with anyone else."

…love?

Jack was grabbing at his hands, loosening his fists and looking at him with sincerity.

"I know this relationship isn't always going to be easy," he was saying, "but it's pretty obvious that it's…important to you. At least important enough that you're putting in effort to make it work. It's not like I haven't noticed all the things you've been trying to do…or not do. I've told you I love you a million times, so if you're working at it, the least I can do is work at it, too."

Love.

Almost hesitantly, Jack added, "And…I figure…if I'm that important to you, I don't think you'd ever seriously hurt me, no matter how much of a…'not ideal choice of mate' you are."

_Love._ Oh, gods. That was it, wasn't it?

Chase grasped Jack's hands back. "You _are_ important to me," he confessed. "I've never had…this… with anyone before you. I've had sex, certainly, and a few of my partners were such that I had passing companionship with them. But never like this, with you."

Jack was…startled by the turnaround, no doubt, but Chase couldn't afford to waste any time now. Who knew when the True Breath would wear off and leave him frustratingly closed-mouth about these things again?

"I love having sex with you," he assured his consort. "I love the way you look at me when you're about to come, and getting to watch you unravel so completely under my hand…it's beautiful, but…even if you never graced my bed again, I believe that I would be…content to just have you. Your brilliance, your wit," he snorted, "even your deplorable sense of humor: _you,_ Jack, all of you. You are something I've never known before in all my years of living."

Jack's stark-white cheeks were turning pink again, and Chase had a feeling it had nothing to do with embarrassment.

"You're…I-I'm…not…" He stuttered a bit before he was able to manage, "I'm not all _that._"

Chase shook his head. "But you _are._ Weren't you the one to say you were made of stronger stuff? It's true. If it were anyone else in the world that had gotten so close to me, close enough to know who I am, what I'm like, how I get…" He grinned. "They'd have unquestionably run screaming, but you knew and you _stayed._ You are a special kind of man, Jack, and I never want to lose that."

Jack snatched his hands back, swallowing hard before he could speak. "I…I know that," he said, sounding like _this_ moment, of all the moments he had been Chase's was the one that was finally making him want to flee. "I knew that already. I'm not just a toy to you, I've known that for a long time now. Why…"

Jack shut up abruptly, his mouth a flat line and his eyes more moist than they'd been only a second ago.

"Oh, Jesus," he said in a rush, slightly higher-pitched than normal, "why are you _telling_ me all this?"

"Because I can right now," Chase said simply. "I'm…stubborn and proud and I've never in all my years had any cause to be an open book, so I don't say these kinds of things. Once this wears off, I may never be this candid with you again. But whether or not I say it, it is real."

"I _know,_" Jack whined, "you don't have to—"

"I do. Let me speak."

Jack ducked his head and watched him with wide eyes, but he didn't interrupt again.

"I try to demonstrate it where I can," Chase explained. "Your every need will be satisfied immediately, your wants shall always be fulfilled." He reconsidered that. "The more reasonable ones, at least. I will do things for you that I will do for no one else, and I will let you take liberties with me that would put any other person in a severe amount of pain, if not get them outright killed for their audacity."

The warlord stood, placing his hands on Jack's shoulders. "But I won't say it and you deserve to hear it, at least once." He waited until Jack actually looked at him to finish, "It may not be typical and it may not be all that you want from me, but this is how I love, Jack."

Jack inhaled sharply, skittering up off of his stool and nearly stumbling backwards a few steps. "Oh, god." He turned away, looking everywhere but at Chase and choking out, "Oh, fuck. Don't," he begged, "I can't…"

But Chase had been feeling it for awhile now and he could not let it go unsaid. "I love you, Jack Spicer," he declared, deliberate. "You are my xin ái, and I love you."

And just like that, Jack was crying.

"Fuuuuuuuck, I love you, too," he warbled out, tears streaming down his face. "Please stop. Shut up. Feelings are…are _so_ not evil and I just…fucking…can't!" Jack buried his face in his hands, scrubbing at his eyes. "Oh my god," he growled through a hitching breath, "you need to go back to normal, Chase, I cannot take this kind of shit every day. Dammit!"

Chase reached out and caught Jack, pulling the goth up against his chest. Jack squirmed a little, but it was clearly half-hearted as the tears were starting to slow and his breathing was already evening out a little.

"The True Breath should wear off soon," he said gently, holding his lover. "I don't believe Dashi ever made a Shen Gong Wu whose effects on people would last indefinitely. My usual mental blocks against such emotional subjects will be back in place eventually."

"_Good,_" Jack grumbled.

It brought an undeniably fond smile to Chase's face. "I'm glad I was able to finally have this discussion with you," he chuckled, "but I have to apologize—I didn't realize you would actually begin _crying_ over it."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," Jack snapped, beating ineffectively at Chase's breastplate. "There's a damn good reason we never talked about this before, y'know!"

Chase tilted his head. "Oh?"

"Yeah! You're allergic to emotions and I'm really bad at hiding mine. If you didn't want me to do this," he scowled, "you should've just let it stay quietly understood so I didn't have to!"

"No, I don't mind," Chase purred to him, stroking his back. "As long as you know, you can have as many embarrassing emotional breakdowns as you'd like."

Jack sniffled a bit and _glared_ with bloodshot eyes for the tease. "Okay, no, seriously? Fuck you. You're an asshole."

"Yes, I am," Chase happily agreed. "The asshole you knowing committed yourself to for all eternity."

Jack drooped and rolled his eyes. "Ugh. I did, didn't I?" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Guess that makes me an idiot."

But he was making no move to take it back, so Chase remained in decidedly good spirits as Jack started to get himself back under control.

Jack dried his eyes, wiped his face with his coat-sleeve, and took a few deep breaths before announcing, "Alright. Here's the deal: we never speak of this again."

"That's not a deal," Chase said, feigning well-meaning correction. "That's merely a statement of something you want. For it to be a deal, you'd have to offer me something in return."

Jack gave him a deadpan stare. "You're kidding, right?" When Chase said nothing else, Jack cursed and said, "Fine, whatever, I'll make you cupcakes or something. Deal?"

"What kind?"

Jack sputtered. "Wh—does it matter?!"

"Yes."

With another frustrated noise, Jack decided, "The cherry buttercream ones, how's that?"

"That's good," Chase agreed. "Although I think you can bribe me a little better than that."

"Well, what else do you _want_?"

"The red velvet kind, with the fondant roses."

"_Seriously_?" Jack folded his arms over his chest. "And I suppose you want the roses to have the leaves, too."

There was no denying the mischievous glint in Chase's eye. "Naturally."

"You suck!" Jack whined. "Those are _work_! You're just gonna eat 'em anyway, what do you care how pretty they are?"

"I like to destroy things that take effort to make," Chase declared. "If it also has the benefit of being delicious, then that's all the better, isn't it?"

Jack's head dropped forward onto Chase's armored shoulder with a thunk. "You're a whore," he said flatly and slightly muffled. "An evil, sadistic, extortionate whore."

"An evil, sadistic, extortionate whore with cupcakes?"

"Yes," Jack groaned, "fine, I'll make the damn cupcakes!" He sounded exasperated as he added, "You drive a hard bargain, y'know that?"

"If it would please you," Chase offered, "I could assist you in the kitchen."

Jack scoffed loudly, extricating himself from his overlord's arms. "Yeah, I bet you would," he said. "And you'd also demand to lick _all_ the spoons and eat _all_ the frosting when my back is turned. No thank you, pal."

Chase couldn't help his smirk as Jack began walking towards the stairs out of the workshop. "Now who's being hard to please?"

"Still you," Jack told him without looking back. "But hey—since we've reestablished that I'm going to be sticking around, you'll have plenty of time to figure out how to make it up to me."

Chase leaned back against the table and found himself smiling at absolutely nothing when the door closed behind his lover.

"Yes," he said to the empty room. "I'm sure I'll think of something."

**A/N: See? I meant what I said! I really am writing! It may not be on a regular schedule, but I'm actually _posting_ things! XD**

_Fresh Air -_ Consider this my Chack Relationship-Dynamic Manifesto. This is basically what informs all but some of my oldest stories in terms of how Chase and Jack function together as a couple. However, because I more frequently write shorter stories, one-offs, and prompt-fics like this one rather than multi-chapter epics, I don't typically have the time or space to explicitly explore the nitty-gritty details like this. I still have all these head-canons, though, and I'll occasionally overtly touch on one or two of the dynamic concepts that fuel the Chack relationship as I picture it, but for the most part, they don't get to take center-stage.

What I try to do because of that is to begin the story with the characters and/or the relationship already in motion, thinking of all these things that build up the dynamic, and then trying to involve it as a subtle undercurrent to the main action with both Chase and Jack portraying it in the way they interact with one another. All this stuff is there, and I write everything they say and do with it in mind so it can kind of 'flavor' the story's subtext with these things that are genuinely important about the relationship (things like mutuality, risk awareness, consent, etc.), but that I may not be able to squeeze into the actual text of it without throwing things off or making it read weird.

Quick example of what I mean by that: it is absolutely _so_ very important that I, as an author, establish consent between a couple. Without consent, it becomes abuse, manipulation, or rape, which is not what I aim to write. But if at some point in the story let's say I've had Chase bring up the fact that he would never rape anyone ever because of how dishonorable an action he finds it. Then later during a passionate or romantic scene, I write Jack as loudly, enthusiastically enjoying whatever Chase is doing. With these things all combined, it might then seem a little odd or off if I _also_ interrupted it to have Chase ask for consent in words when ideally, it would've been strongly implied and Jack would probably only get annoyed at Chase for stopping to ask a question with such an obvious answer (_yes, I want to, did you just walk in the room or something? You are cock-blocking us both, dammit, now get on with it or I am doing the post-it thing again! Jeez!_).

But that's a more explicit example. Sometimes the same thing will happen on a more subtle scale, where I'm pretty sure I've established something one way and that going over it more would just be overkill. However, these are still _hugely_ important things to touch on, and yet also things I don't always get a chance to refer to textually and when it's subtextual, there's always a risk that it's not clear enough and I'm over here thinking it's totally obvious, when I might be the only one who can see it.

Thanks to this ficlet, though, I've finally gotten the chance to put it all out there: pretty much all of my head-canons as to the dynamic of Chase and Jack's relationship, in explicit detail, and it doesn't interrupt the flow of the story because it _is_ the story! XD

Either way, I'm very happy to have written this because now, I can worry a little less about Chack as I write it being read in ways I hadn't intended it to be read, hopefully smoothing out some of the potentially problematic aspects of a relationship between an immortal shape-shifting warlord and a whiny goth robotics-genius who are both very evil and (as I write them, at least) very much in love with each other. If something I write seems dubious, I have this to point to so as to help explain the way I see this pairing and how they function together! :)

Anyway! That's enough of that, sorry for the long A/N, and that's about all I have to say about this one, so thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! :D  



	16. MS: G

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Grape-**_

"Stupid motherf…son of a…swear to _fuck_…! Why is this so hard?!"

"Because clearly," Chase told him, pulling the black silk from his hands, "no one has ever taught you how to knot a tie."

Jack blinked at the warlord suddenly in front of him flipping up his collar and draping the tie around his neck. "Um," he said, and then much more coherently, "mom tried a couple times, but it never stuck."

"Mm." Chase did not look up at him, focusing on the knot. "I suppose you never had much incentive to learn it, else you might have picked it up."

"I know, right?" Jack scoffed in distaste. "What the hell would I ever want to get dressed up in a monkey suit for? I'd rather be an actual monkey—and I've had experience with that, so I know what I'm talking about."

Chase finished knotting the tie and tucked it into the jacket of the fine black suit Jack was currently wearing. As he almost absently straightened his consort's clothes, he noted, "And yet you seem to be dressed as such now." His eyes flicked upwards to meet Jack's. "Might you be going somewhere, Spicer?"

"Unfortunately," sighed Jack. "I have to go to a party. Not even the fun kind of party, the _boring_ kind."

"You _have_ to go?" Chase echoed.

"Okay, so…y'know how my dad sucks and is never around?"

Chase nodded.

"Well," continued Jack, "that also means he's never around when he needs to be, either. One of our old friends of the family, a guy named Beaumont, he's throwing this really super-important party and dad's _supposed_ to be there to rub elbows and kiss asses with a bunch of other rich, important people."

"But he's elsewhere," Chase naturally concluded.

"Halfway around the world from where he oughta be," Jack agreed. "So now, I have to go to make sure the Spicers still look good in the eyes of the wealthy public."

"Surprisingly generous of you. I didn't realize you loved your father quite so much that you would go to an event you had no interest in simply to cover for his global dalliances."

Jack actually laughed out loud. "Fuck no, it has nothing to do with him, it's the _name._ I have to go because _I_ need people to hear 'Spicer' and simultaneously shit their pants in terror and come forth with pre-greased palms to try and placate my wrath."

Chase seemed to be fighting back a laugh himself. "Oh, really?"

"Absolutely," said Jack. "SpicerTech's only been around as a corporation for a year, and while I sure as hell would've been able to make it on my skill alone, reputation and the consequent investments went a long way in kick-starting the damn thing _faster._ People were lining up to throw money at me and my idea because they'd heard of Spicer Industries and Martin Spicer who could buy and sell them three times over. Martin's kid has to be a pretty good investment, right?"

"And you are," Chase agreed. "You've done very well in a short amount of time, from what you've told me."

"I totally have, and I want that to keep happening, so if dad's not gonna go to this stupid thing, then it's gotta be me if I don't want the rep to take a hit." Jack sighed again. "Otherwise, I'd have declined the invitation by literally crashing through the party on a bitchin' motorcycle, jumping through a hoop of fire, flipping everyone the double-bird, and driving off again after saying, 'Fuck this, see you in hell!'"

Chase gave in and laughed. "You would not."

Jack grinned. "Yeah, I probably wouldn't," he admitted. "I might've built a bot to do it, though, that's almost as good."

Chase only shook his head. "So, you're going," he said, returning to the topic at hand. "Might there be any particular reason you chose not to invite me?"

Jack…stared at his master for a second, trying to gauge him. Chase didn't _seem_ pissed off or anything, so Jack didn't bother with apology as he answered, "Okay, well, Number One, I would think not inviting you to something of this magnitude of horribleness would be a courtesy more than an oversight, but Number Two, yeah, it was kind of an oversight. Honestly, I forgot about the fucking thing until an hour ago and it starts in, like, ten minutes, so I was just gonna take the Golden Tiger Claws over."

"Or you could invite me and I would take us both there in the blink of an eye."

"…do you actually _want_ to go?" Jack wondered incredulously.

"I have no pressing business this afternoon," Chase stated simply. "I can admit to succumbing to boredom when I have too little to do—I see no reason why I shouldn't accompany you to this event."

Jack really didn't know what to say to that because unless he was completely misreading it, Chase was _asking to be taken on a date._

Of course, that was weird on many different levels, one of them being that Chase was asking to be taken on a _boring_ date, but another was that they had never done anything like that before.

Certainly, Jack spent time together with Chase and he occasionally left the palace with him from time to time, but the context was typically that of some Heylin business or other. It wasn't really the most romantic stuff, to say the least.

On the one hand, it was pretty exciting because the way it was going, he was about to have his first date with the love of his life. On the other, though…

It was going to be a public date. Amongst _mortals,_ and not only that, but _rich and snobby_ mortals. And Jack didn't have any context for that, either.

If he were being completely fair and unbiased about it, Chase didn't seem particularly suited to…well, people. He was aloof and vaguely charming at the best of times, and at worst, he was aggressive and standoffish and Jack had never seen him back down from anything even remotely resembling a challenge.

He would probably do well around meek, polite people for short periods of time. A whole crowd of moronic, posturing windbags…?

It worried Jack a little that his first thought was of a hungry, agitated fox being tossed into a henhouse.

But at the same time, Chase definitely wasn't a mindless animal. Jack knew that he could be incredibly patient and on a person-to-person level, one of the best fake ingratiators Jack had ever seen. Chase clearly knew how to navigate some social situations and if somebody was dumb enough to piss him off, the dragonlord probably had enough self-control to just leave rather than literally shredding the offender to pieces.

Plus, Chase would be genuinely offended if his request for a date (his first and only, thusfar) was turned down because Jack didn't think he could handle being around people and the _last_ thing Jack wanted to do was give Chase negative feedback for stuff like this. It was beyond awesome that Chase was the one asking for this and fuck it all if Jack could really say no to that.

So, Jack smiled easily and said, "Yeah, why not? Come to the party with me. It'll make it more interesting, at least."

Chase smiled too, obviously pleased. "Excellent. Is there any dress code I should be aware of?"

"No armor allowed," Jack joked. Then, he added, "No, actually, it's just formal wear. As long as it's a nice suit, you'll be fine."

"Not black tie regulations?" Chase wondered.

"Thank fuck, no," Jack replied. "I hate bow-ties even more than regular ties. Lucky for us, it's only a semi-formal event—and for that crowd, 'formal' means 'black tie' and 'semi-formal' means 'formal.'"

"Thank you for the translation. And where is this 'semi-formal' event taking place?"

"Believe it or not, they're hosting it at a vineyard."

Chase blinked. "Really?" he asked, sounding interested.

"Yeah," Jack nodded, "partially outdoors with an open tent in some real pretty place in Italy. Chianti region, I think. I can point it out to you on a map, if you've got one."

Chase smirked at him. "Jack, if I were any other man, I would think you insane for assuming I have a map of Italy."

"And yet, you _have_ a map of Italy," Jack pointed out. "What's that make you?"

The warlord chuckled and turned to leave the room. "Finish getting ready," he said. "I'll find the map and we'll leave."

Jack just snickered and turned back to the mirror, adding a few finishing touches to his appearance while he waited for his master to return so he could look his best on his very first date with Chase ever.

Only a few minutes later, Jack was in Italy, adjusting to the humid afternoon warmth and blending seamlessly into a small arriving crowd of guests with Chase by his side.

Appearing out of nowhere between one blink and the next was typically enough to make a much more extravagant entrance and would've guaranteed the immediate attention of everyone around.

They absolutely had it, but it had nothing to do with their sudden existence—Chase's magicks were far too understated to have drawn any attention from that.

"All eyes on you in two seconds," Jack muttered to Chase under his breath. "Is that a record? It's gotta be."

Chase's lips twitched. "_Without_ a gratuitous display of my power? It may be. Is my appearance really so striking?"

As if Chase didn't know. As if he had absolutely no idea how stunningly gorgeous he looked in a form-fitting, Western suit that perfectly outlined the broadness of his shoulders, the lean masculinity of the warrior's body just barely contained beneath fine black cloth.

Chase had to know how unfairly gorgeous he was, ergo—he was totally fishing for compliments right now.

"You _know_ it is," Jack said aloud. "You'd be the sexiest guy in the room even if everyone else here wasn't old and wrinkly. Obviously you get their undivided attention 'cause they've probably never even _seen_ a man as pretty as you. You're so hot, you're actually making 'bubblegum pink' hot by proxy, and I didn't even think that was possible."

Chase's fingers brushed over the silk of his tie, the pink of which perfectly matched the subtle pinstripes of his white shirt. "Does it displease you, xin ái?" he wondered. "Would you prefer something else?"

Jack snorted. "Yes, I would, actually, I'm very displeased," he declared flatly. "The pink brings out your eyes _way_ too nicely. In fact, I'm so displeased with it, you can expect me to strip the whole outfit off you when we get home. Possibly with my teeth. Definitely with my teeth."

Chase shot him a devilish grin, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Something to look forward to," he purred, "and in the meantime, you may take comfort in the fact that I am not the only one being looked at."

Jack paused, casting a surreptitious glance around the large, open tent. Wealthy people, many of whom Jack recognized at least peripherally, were milling about and making small talk already, but whenever he saw people looking somewhere other than the one they were talking to, it was still in Chase's direction.

And then, Jack realized.

"_Me_?"

"You sound surprised," Chase noted. "You're a very attractive man. It only makes sense you would call attention to yourself."

"Well, sure, I wasn't exactly hit with the Ugly Stick, but I'm not…" Jack's mind stalled for a second because wow, yeah, people _were_ looking at him, and even with _Chase Young_ next to him as eye-candy-competition. "I'm not a show-stopper or anything…"

"Oh, but you are. I'm supremely beautiful, of course," Chase allowed, "but you're far more vibrant. Your natural colors draw the eye just as easily as I do, and you've only accentuated them with your clothing. Yellow is very much your color, Jack."

Weirdly self-conscious all of a sudden, Jack fussed a bit with his tie and smoothed it down over the satiny gold of his vest. "Is it?" he wondered. "I kinda just picked it 'cause it looked right."

And it had. White shirts were typical for a suit and he had tried one on by itself at first, but…he was so _pale._ It had practically blended into his skin and without anything to offset it, just looked awkward. He knew from experience that most other colors clashed horrendously with his hair and eyes, so when it had come to an accent, a bright yellow had seemed to be his only choice.

Jack didn't know much about fashion, but with white, black, red, and orange to contend with, yellow felt like a right fit.

"It looks very right," Chase assured him, sidling up close. "The colors draw the attention, and the cut of your suit is sure to hold it. It was perfectly tailored to you and it shows."

If Chase was allowed to fish for compliments, then so was Jack. "You think so?"

By the look in his eyes, Chase knew exactly what Jack was doing, but he answered anyway. "Absolutely. It displays some of your best attributes—your long, long legs, your trim, graspable hips, your _ass…_ If it wouldn't be entirely uncouth of me, I'd gladly grope you indecently until I had those legs of yours wrapped around my waist."

"I would so totally be down with that," said Jack, mouth abruptly a bit dry.

Chase only tsked at him. "Jack, we're in _public._ That would be scandalous. Now, if someone were fool enough to try and poach you from me instead of only looking," he said, fingers brushing at the base of Jack's spine, just above where it would be inappropriate, "that would be a different story."

"You are the jealous type. What would you do?" Jack asked with a slight shiver. "Would you just throw me down in the dirt and do me in front of everybody?"

"I might. Though it would only be after making an example of the interloper. Perhaps we might fuck like bunnies atop his or her fresh corpse, what do you think of that?"

"I think," said Jack, "that it is so deeply, incredibly sexy that we are having this conversation in a room full of people that would be horrified if they overheard it. You are really bad for my concentration, y'know that?"

"On the contrary," grinned Chase, "I'm forcing you to exercise your concentration so you don't telegraph your arousal to this particular crowd. I'm actually very impressed with your control."

"Which is great, but I'm supposed to be here schmoozing, not just flirting with you: I can do that at home. We've only been here a few minutes and you're trying to get me to drag you off into the vineyard and wreck both of our suits and I am so totally falling for it."

"Much as I wouldn't protest the dragging," Chase said, "I'm sure you'll manage to squeeze in plenty of schmoozing. It seems you're about to have an opportunity for it now."

Jack frowned. "What's that supposed t—"

"Jack!" interjected a new voice. "So glad to see you could make it!"

Immediately, automatically, Jack was smiling at a gray-haired man, reaching out to shake the hand that was offered. "Mr. Beaumont," he greeted, "it's been awhile!"

"Too long," the man agreed, "and by all means, call me Henry. I've known you since you were in diapers, for god's sake!"

"Well, fortunately, those days are long gone." Jack endured a laugh at his lackluster joke, and when it was over, he angled himself between Chase and Mr. Beaumont. "Chase," he said, "this is Henry Beaumont."

Chase smiled, devastatingly charming about it, and proceed to lie through his teeth as he shook the other man's hand. "Chase Young. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Always wonderful to see a new face among our ranks," said Henry, and Jack could tell he was lying too. Everyone was, here. "So, how do you know our Jack?"

Jack took a step closer to his master. "Chase is here as my date," he declared.

It was a bold statement and one that was practically daring Beaumont to say something about it.

When the realization struck him, though, he quickly covered any surprise or personal feelings on the matter and smiled broadly. "Oh," he laughed, "well, that's alright I suppose. I hear you people can even get married some places these days."

Jack felt his own grin turn brittle, but he knew it looked as convincing as ever. "We've been thinking about it, actually, but we haven't been able to agree on who gets to pop the question—neither one of us wants to be the woman."

Predictably, that went over well with Henry, subscribing to gender roles he'd be comfortable with over a sexuality he clearly wasn't. He laughed again and said, "Well, as long as you don't get stuck in the wedding dress, eh, Jack?"

"Better him than me," Chase cut in. "I really don't have the figure for it."

And there, they had both firmly established their conventional masculinity in this conversation, in spite of the fact that they were now known to be homosexual. Beaumont probably wouldn't bring it up again since it was a moot issue.

As predicted, Henry was happy to move on. "So, what do you boys think of the venue?" he asked. "My wife just insisted on this place and I think she had the right idea."

"It's lovely," Chase told him. "The Italian country is so quaint, it just has so much more character than the vineyards you might find in America."

Jack was actually very impressed because that was the kind of perfectly vapid, high-class response he'd have given—Chase was better at this than he'd suspected.

"You know, that's just what Sheila said," Henry told them, "and I think that's completely right. If you're going to a vineyard, it might as well be one in the birthplace of wine. I think we all feel a little privileged to be here, with all the historical significance."

Oh, boy, Beaumont was talking out of his ass already.

Jack kept up his grin and agreed, "Italy is already so beautiful, but it's really the culture that makes it an experience."

"Sheila and I have a villa here, actually. Wonderful place," and now came the bragging. "We stayed for the summer last year and it was amazing. I think everyone ought to spend a few summers outside the States, soak up other cultures."

Well, two could play at the bragging game. "You know what's really beautiful this time of year?" Jack began. "Paris. Paris is absolutely gorgeous, even in the winter. The snow on the Eiffel Tower is breathtaking."

"Mm, I rather preferred the time we spent in London," Chase added, easily catching on to what Jack was doing. "There's such a quiet dignity about the place and I just loved the architecture."

"But that spring we spent in Berlin was definitely more solemn and historical," Jack said, fully aware that none of the things he was saying actually meant anything. He turned back to Henry, throwing on a self-deprecating smile. "See, this is the problem for people like us—trying to decide which vacation home is the best when they're all so great."

Henry smiled too, but it didn't reach his eyes. He had obviously concluded that he was no longer the alpha-dog in this conversation.

"Vacations are all well and good," he said, "but they don't mean much if you're not doing any honest work. How's your work going, Jack? Are you still making toys, or have you finally grown into the family business?"

Jack was really never going to forgive his father for trivializing his work to all his 'friends,' but he wasn't about to feel chastised by it, either. "Actually, I decided to stick with the toys," he told Beaumont. "Turns out there's a lot more money to be made in technology than in spices. It's a big, booming field and since there's nobody operating at my level, I basically have no competitors."

"It might be a good market, but it's definitely been cornered already," Henry said dismissively. "Spice trading is a much safer bet for you, Jack, and it's right there in your name. I just don't see how you could make any headway where there are so many big names with such strong holds on the consumers."

"Yeah, there are," Jack agreed, "and every last one of them has already tried to buy me out. They know I'm a threat because I'm catching up too quick. I'm actually not having any trouble swaying the consumers. Maybe you've seen my logo around?"

Jack held up an arm, showing off his custom cufflinks of the SpicerTech logo—two gears overlaid with an Archimedean spiral in the center of the top one.

By the recognition that sparked in Beaumont's eyes, he had indeed seen it before, which was really no surprise. With the way Jack's business was taking off, and the personal pride he took in all the top-notch tech that his company put out, that logo was being stamped on pretty much everything these days. He might even be headed towards a monopoly, if he played his cards right.

Not _quite_ world domination, but it was close enough.

"SpicerTech hasn't been live for very long, but we're already on-level with those big names you're talking about," Jack said. "I'm doing pretty well where I'm at, so I figure dad can keep handling the family business while I do my own thing."

"That's just your problem, Jack," Henry declared, shaking his head. "You're not pushing yourself."

Jack…_wanted_ to stare at him, mouth agape for the sudden patronizing tone he was taking. However, he was still very much in high-society-asshole-mode, so he settled for faking some sincerity as he asked, "What do you mean?"

"This whole SpicerTech thing, it's just you sticking with what you know," which, _duh,_ wasn't that the point? "I really think you would be much more fulfilled if you took a chance and pushed yourself outside your comfort zone, tried your hand at the spice trade instead of just giving up before you even start."

It took a whole lot of self-control not to immediately burst out with indignant exclamations when Henry went on to say, "Now, your father, he knows the value of hard work, and it's a lot more valuable than you might think."

Hard work? And what the hell was building an _entire company from scratch at nineteen_?! Luckily, Chase's hand settled at his lower back again and Jack was able to keep reining it in. "Well, I'm sure it is, but you know my generation," he said flippantly. "We're all about convenience and instant gratification. Maybe I'll be patient enough for spices in a few more years, but right now, technology is the fast track for me."

"Oh, that's a stereotype," Henry scoffed. "All you young people can't be after the easy route. Chase, what is it you do?"

Jack stiffened, because dear god, that was a _challenge._ Beaumont was sizing Chase up and challenging him to prove himself worthy of the upper crust.

But of course, Chase was entirely calm and collected as he replied, "I _was_ something of an entrepreneur. I was involved with a little bit of everything for awhile."

Henry made a pitying face. "Caught by the bad economy, huh?"

Chase blinked in apparent confusion. "Hm? Oh!" he feigned realization. "No, no, I'm not unemployed. I'm actually retired."

And Beaumont definitely hadn't been expecting that one. He'd been expecting something that would allow him to throw more barbs at the newcomer, and Jack couldn't deny his satisfaction in watching Chase so adroitly thwart that hope.

But unfortunately, Beaumont still wanted to salvage his footing. "Retired already? You can't be more than twenty, but then, I suppose you'd age well, wouldn't you?"

For a second, Jack was literally unable to process how racist that sentence was alongside how easily Henry had said it.

"Certainly. I'm glad for it, too," Chase agreed, running the fingers of his free hand through the length of his hair. "It's one of my greatest nightmares to spot a gray."

Said to a man with a full _head_ of them, and Jesus, Chase went right for the jugular on that, didn't he?

Beaumont's ensuing laugh had a very wooden quality. "Yes," he chuckled, "well. Young isn't a name I recognize. I don't suppose you'd have any connections I would know?"

"I'm something of a self-made man," Chase told him. "I try not to rely on others when I can help it."

That was apparently enough to make Henry feel like he was back in control. "Oh, don't worry," he said haughtily, "that's understandable. You're still only new money. You'll catch up to us old-timers," he playfully elbowed Jack, "eventually. I'd be happy to introduce you to some of my business connections if your pride would allow it."

Christ, Beaumont had no idea what a huge bear he was poking. Or rather, he had no idea what a powerful man he was stupidly condescending to, and Jack was starting to get nervous for him.

Not because he liked the man or was worried for his safety, but because he still wasn't sure what Chase's tolerance limits for mortal foolishness were, or how close the dragonlord was to reaching them.

"I'll keep your generous offer in mind," Chase said mildly, and that told Jack nothing. "Thank you, sir."

"Ah, it's no trouble at all, my boy," Henry proclaimed, continuing to push his luck by slapping a hand on Chase's shoulder. "I'm always happy to help out a newbie, show 'im the ropes."

Chase's smile seemed a little tighter even as he nodded in response and Jack decided now would be a good time to straight up ask Chase how close he was to losing his cool, as opposed to just waiting until he lost it.

"Henry," Jack cut in, "it's been great catching up with you, but I actually brought Chase along today because I was hoping to introduce him around a little. You know, a bit of networking, mini-meet-and-greets, that kind of thing."

"Oh, of course," said Beaumont, "by all means, don't let me keep you! I've got a party to host, anyway." He turned to grin at Chase one last time, offering him a wink. "You keep working hard, kid, and you'll do just fine. I'll see you both at the wine-tasting later!"

"Absolutely, and thanks for your help. We'll give you a call," said Jack, intending to do no such thing and taking Chase's hand as he headed for the mouth of the tent.

Chase followed along after him without complaint and they were soon outside with a gorgeous view of the Old World vineyard and the sky painted sunset colors. Jack turned away from the scenery and the grapevines and opened his mouth to ask Chase where he was at.

Before he could even get a word out, though, Chase interrupted him—by bursting out into laughter.

"Oh, gods, thank you, Jack," he said through a cackle, "I was actually having trouble keeping it in for a moment there."

Jack's mouth closed and opened, and then closed again. When sound finally came out, all he was able to say was, "What."

Cheeks vaguely flushed and mirth glittering in his eyes, Chase said, "Your 'friend' was hilarious. He's so pathetic already, and then he attempted to make _me_ feel inferior to _him._" He chuckled. "If you hadn't pulled me away, I might've laughed in his face."

"So…" Jack began slowly. "You're not mad?"

"Mad?" Chase scoffed. "If my poker-face weren't as good as it is, I'd be in _hysterics._ All of these people here," he said, "that man included—they all think they're at the top of the pyramid and everyone else ought to lick their boots and then thank them for the privilege."

"Pretty much," Jack agreed, having nothing to say in defense of those people.

"Yet I know for a fact that they would _grovel_ if they knew, really, what I am. I am so much their better," Chase proclaimed, "I'm practically royalty, and they're trying to _intimidate_ me."

"Fat chance of that happening."

"Exactly."

Jack considered it. "So that's why you were so eager to come with me? You wanted to watch rich snobs make complete asses out of themselves?"

That was…kind of disappointing. Here, Jack had been under the impression that Chase was making an attempt to tolerate these snotty pricks for the sake of spending time with him.

"It's excellent entertainment," Chase agreed, "but it's much better in your company."

Okay, seriously, was Chase a telepath? Because the Xiaolin monks had the Mind Reader Conch right now. "What do you mean?"

Chase settled a hand on Jack's arm. "You handled him beautifully," he told his consort. "You pretend to be one of them so well that if I had known nothing of you during that conversation, I could've taken you to be just another haughty mortal who assumes that money gives him power…but I know you, and I know that you are so much more, yet you operate seamlessly within their system as if you had designed it yourself."

"I _was_ born into this, y'know," Jack noted.

"But it was not what you were born _for,_" Chase reminded. "You've always been meant for much greater. It was so very attractive to watch you master him with only words and destroy his ego with a few well-placed jabs."

Chase's hands slipped up to his shoulders, pulling him in close. "I'd say you've finally come into your own, Jack," he said, positively sultry. "Consider this your _official_ welcome into the Heylin."

And then Chase kissed him, and it wasn't particularly passionate, but the warmth was undeniable; genuinely affectionate, and these were the little gestures from Chase that Jack _lived_ for.

Jack hummed as Chase pulled back. "So, does that mean I'm not your apprentice anymore? I mean, if I'm legit Heylin by your standards, now."

"You may keep the title," Chase told him. "There may still be things you can learn from me, but I don't believe you _need_ instruction anymore. You were an excellent student, and I have no complaints if you'd like to retire to full-time consortship."

Jack had a feeling he was totally failing at keeping the sheer delight off his face. "I think I can handle that." He paused, remembering where they were. "So, just to clarify…you're _not_ planning on killing anybody here?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "You say that as if there is anyone here who would be worth the effort. These people are scum, Spicer, they're barely worth my attention, much less my ire."

"Huh. Okay." Jack nodded to himself. "You know, here I was, thinking I couldn't take you anywhere without risking…I dunno, mass beheadings or something. Learn something new every day, I guess." He looked hopefully at Chase. "I don't suppose you'd be up for a lot more dating in the future, would you?"

"An opportunity to share experiences with you and show you off in public, taunting everyone with something that they'll never have because it's mine?" Chase smirked. "That sounds like fun."

Jack laughed. "Well, obviously, not everybody can be as fortunate as you for finding such a rich and successful catch as the founder and CEO of SpicerTech."

"You're very lucky it's not your billions I'm after, Mr. Spicer," Chase teased.

"Oh, god, don't call me that," Jack sniggered. "Dad is the last thing I wanna think about when I'm with you. That cock-blocking bastard is the only reason we're _here_ right now instead of home."

"Yes, speaking of, _tell_ me we're attending the wine-tasting Beaumont mentioned. I refuse to pass up the show of fools acting superior because of their elaborate and utterly useless knowledge of a drink's flavor and origin."

"We can go if you want, but I'm sure as hell not participating."

"What," Chase wondered, "you've no deep abiding passion for wine?"

"I have plenty of passion," Jack assured him, "but what's the point of tasting it if I can't drink it? Fuck that, I'm waiting for the stuff we don't have to spit back out."

"Might it be that my consort is a lush?"

Jack raised an eyebrow at him. "Says the man I bought the full-bottle-wine-glass for on his birthday?"

Chase gave him an amused look, deferring, "Touché."

Jack beamed in victory and then glanced back inside the tent to scope out the playing field.

He immediately saw something horrible.

"Shit," he hissed, quickly turning to look out at the vineyard again. "Chase, don't look."

Chase appeared momentarily thrown by the rapid mood change. "Don't look at what?"

"That woman in the peacock-ish dress," Jack elaborated. "Don't get her attention. She's another one of dad's friends and I am not ready to run the 'Jack, why aren't you a clone of your father yet?' gauntlet again so soon."

"Are they really all like that?" Chase inquired.

"_Yes._" Jack folded his arms over his chest. "That one used to tutor me in piano—'cause that's what dad can play—and she was always ragging on me about my dumb, clumsy fingers."

Chase tilted his head. "You have very skilled hands," he protested, then amended, "tie-knotting excluded."

"I know, they're awesome hands, I'm very proud," Jack agreed. "She was just sure that my hands were the problem because my playing was always flat and 'no true socialite could lack the soul to produce the art of music!'"

Chase smirked broadly. "I'd love to hear her critique of _my_ playing with my literal lack of soul."

Jack barked out a short laugh. "Yeah, well, you've got an ear for it. I never did, it's not my thing. I'd rather head-bang to hard rock in the basement all day."

"I suppose you'd do it in your underwear, too."

Jack gave him a look. "Well, how else do you expect me to do it?"

"Oh, don't get offended," Chase placated him, "I raise no protest. It's an excellent view."

Jack puffed out his chest. "Damn straight it is. Old Mrs. Stederman can suck a fat one," he announced. "I don't need to be good at classical music to attract a wealthy, airheaded bimbo who only likes me for my cash: I already snagged me a wealthy, _intelligent_ bimbo who likes me for my body."

Chase's arm curled around him and pulled him up against the warlord. Just at his ear, Chase murmured, "And your mind, though not today. I get the sense that you did not think that 'bimbo' comment through, xin ái."

"Aw, c'mon, you know I didn't mean it like _that._"

"Of course you didn't," Chase concurred, "I know. You may want to brace yourself for another Passive-Aggressive Death-Match, though—Mrs. Stederman is on her way over."

"What?!" Jack squeaked and turned to see the old woman in her feathery dress very decidedly coming towards them. "She spotted me?!"

"Yes," Chase said, "after I made eye-contact and smiled at her with my arm firmly around your waist."

Jack's jaw dropped. "You…!" He then paused to think about it. Already resigned, he asked, "The 'bimbo' comment?"

"I told you," the dragonlord shrugged, "you didn't think that through very well."

Jack noticeably sagged in dismay. "You are _cruel._"

Chase stared at him, the perfect picture of innocence that he _wasn't._ "Is that news?"

Jack felt totally justified in characterizing the sigh he let out as 'long-suffering.' "Only if you count old news," he said. "I guess I really _can't_ take you anywhere, huh?"

Before Chase could answer with anything more than a wickedly entertained expression, the peacock-woman was upon them and Jack once more had a huge, fake smile plastered on his face as he exclaimed, "Oh _hi_ Mrs. Stederman, it's so good to see you!"

**A/N: Woo, I'm actually proud of myself for the semi-regularity of my posting these days! Let's see how long I can keep it up before I totally fail and don't post again for months at a time! XD**

**_Grape -_ I'm not sure how much I have to say about this one, other than it's always fun to put Jack in a position of power, just as it's always fun to explore his wealthy upbringing. Also may have been a bit inspired by the Cut Lex Luthor a Check trope, in that Jack's inventions are awesome and way ahead of modern technology, so why _wouldn't_ he be selling them for his own gain?**

**And maybe, just maybe, it was an excuse to get Chase and Jack in suits. ;P**

**For those of you out there who appreciate visual aids, I went ahead and found some references! Since FF hates links, I'll just include the one link where you can access all the other ones here: crystallicsky . deviantart [dot com]/art/Crayola-Magic-Scent-G-358496416**

**Just check my author's notes on that page to access the pictures relevant to the story. :)**

**Anyway, I think that's all I've got for this one, so thanks for reading everybody and I hope you enjoyed it! :D**


	17. MS: J

**Crayola of Chack**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language, homosexuality, implications of sexual situations, etc.**

**-.-.-.-.-.-**

_**Jelly Bean-**_

Chenglei finally slowed to a stagger when his legs refused to move even another step forward, his lungs burning with his lack of breath.

He was dizzy for how hard and how fast he'd run and it took several long moments of gasping before he was able to do anything else.

The moon was bright enough that he could at least see where his feet had taken him and luckily, he knew it. The wide open field wasn't too far outside his village. He'd come here many times, when he played with—

Dashi.

Chenglei dropped to the ground with a quiet moan, pulling his knees up to his chest. He didn't want to think of Dashi. He didn't want to think of _anything_ right now, but especially not Dashi.

Hiding his face and shutting his eyes, Chenglei breathed in the cool night air and tried to keep control. It was the only thing he could still _do._

Was he really so useless?

"_There_ you are!"

Chenglei's head jerked up in surprise, a thrill of fright striking through his heart because no one came to this spot and no one should be here now, at an hour meant for monsters and spirits.

His breath caught in his throat when he turned to see exactly that.

Tall, impossibly tall and striding towards him on long, gangly legs was a human-shaped creature but colored _wrong._ It…he, it looked like a man, was practically glowing beneath the full moon and just as pale, with startlingly red eyes and unnaturally red hair that were so much more vibrant against his strange, coal-black attire.

He also had yet to stop speaking.

"I've been looking for you for hours!" the apparition exclaimed. "Six freaking hours traipsing through the wilderness, half of 'em in total dark, with nothing but a granola bar, and not even the good kind with the chocolate chips and the marshmallow bits—goddamn dried fruit chunks! I don't even know why I had it on me when I don't even like those, don't ask me—"

The man cut himself off, blinking at Chenglei with his wide eyes. "Oh, my god," he said. "You are _impossibly_ adorable. You are just… How do you even _do_ that? Holy… Wow. You're a cherub. Jesus."

Chenglei really didn't…know how to respond to that. There was too much of the stranger's fast-paced speech that was…

"Hey, are you okay?" the man asked. "You're looking at me like I killed your puppy or something. Hey!" He snapped his fingers rapidly. "Kid, are you even hearing me?"

"Are…are you a spirit?" Chenglei breathed, fearing to move or even speak too loudly.

That was met with a loud laugh. "A spirit!" he snickered. "That's a first, I think. No, I'm not a spirit, I'm just a guy."

Chenglei frowned. "A…guy?"

"A man," the stranger corrected, looking somehow sheepish. "Gonna have to watch what I say. Um, you can call me Jack, I guess."

"Jack," Chenglei echoed. "That is a very strange name."

"I'm not from around here," Jack informed him. "It's a perfectly normal name where I come from. I bet your name would sound pretty strange to me."

"Chenglei is a normal name!" he protested.

Jack wagged a finger at him. "Sure it is," he said, "but if I were really a spirit, I'd have power over you now. Be a little more careful how easy you give out your name in the future."

Chenglei scooted backwards in alarm when Jack bent to join him on the grass. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting," Jack told him. "Am I not allowed to sit?"

"You…you can sit," Chenglei said. "But…why?"

"Why? I've been wandering around for hours," Jack reminded. "I'm sick of standing! Seeing you sit makes me want to sit, so unless you own the field, I'm sitting."

"No!" Jack looked at him with his strange red gaze and he felt himself duck back a little. "Why _here,_ I meant."

"Oh. Yeah, that's a different question. Harder one, too. Uhhhh…" Jack looked like he was thinking about something difficult for a moment. "Okay, how about this—I'm lost."

"My village is the only one close to here," Chenglei said, "and you are _not_ from my village."

"Yeah, I'm _way_ lost." Jack leaned back, bracing himself with his palms flat against the ground. "I'm, like, a magnitude of 'lost' that you probably can't even understand right now."

Chenglei glared at him. "I'm not stupid."

"Didn't say you were," Jack assured, staring up at the sky. "It's not an easy concept, I barely get it myself and you're, what, three?"

"I'm six!" Chenglei squawked, indignant.

Jack just waved him off. "Six, sure, sorry. I don't spend a lot of time with kids, I wouldn't know."

"You don't have children?"

Jack turned to him again. "Huh?"

"You're old," Chenglei explained. "Don't you have children by now?"

Jack pressed a hand to his chest. "_Old,_" he repeated with a grimace. "Damn, that hurt. God no, I don't have kids."

Someone as old as Jack who didn't have a family. Chenglei couldn't help but stare. "Is your wife barren?" he wondered.

"Wife?" Chenglei hadn't known a man's voice could actually reach that pitch. "It has nothing to do with my—I don't _have_ a wife! In the…uh. Where I come from, I'm just way too young for kids, plus I don't want any. Ever."

No children, no wife…it sounded a little lonely. "You don't have anybody?"

"I didn't say that," Jack objected. "I have y—… Well, I have somebody. He's not my wife, though, he's my master."

"Oh."

"Yeah, and I know he's looking for me right now, but like I said, I'm _really_ lost. He's gonna be having some trouble figuring out where I am, so that's why I came here."

"I don't understand," Chenglei said.

"Yeah, that's another hard part," Jack agreed. "Let me think of how to explain. Okay, so…this is a place that he's been before, and I…have been here with him, so I just need to stay here until he remembers us being here, and then he'll come and get me."

That made a little more sense, Chenglei decided. He shifted, as if to stand. "Should I leave, then, so you can wait?"

"No, stay!" Jack exclaimed, startling Chenglei. Then, softer and with a pleading smile, "Stay, please. Keep me company for awhile. You're not bothering me and I don't know how long it'll take until he remembers and I…don't really want to wait alone."

Immediately, Chenglei was dubious.

He had heard stories, not of monsters, but of men who were _like_ monsters—men who…treated children as they would their wives. Jack, so desperate to have him around, when they were alone at night…

It was suspicious, to say the least.

But on the other hand, Chenglei was very poor. He knew that because his father told him so every day, why it was so important that he grow up and become a man so that he could at least help with the harvest instead of simply being another mouth to feed.

Jack was definitely rich, or at least his master was. His clothes were strange, but they were _nice,_ far nicer than anything Chenglei had seen, much less worn. No matter how odd he looked or spoke, it was obvious that Jack came from money.

If Jack also turned out to be a pervert, well… Chenglei supposed there were worse experiences. He could make it work for him, if that was what Jack was after: whether the man tried to bribe him into it or buy his silence after, it would be money he could bring home to show his father that he could do _something_ right.

Chenglei sat back down on the grass, trying not to look too apprehensive about whatever was to come.

"Great!" Jack smiled at him, apparently content. He made no move to get closer or touch Chenglei, though, and in fact, fixed him with a serious expression. "Look, I know this probably seems pretty shady, but I promise I don't have any ulterior motives."

"What do you mean?"

"That 'headed for execution' face you just pulled," Jack said, and apparently, Chenglei hadn't covered it as well as he'd hoped. "I'm not a bad man, though. Er…well, I am, to be honest, but I'm not gonna do anything weird. I just thought we could…um…talk, I guess. To kill some time."

Chenglei frowned at him. "Talk?"

"Yeah," Jack shrugged. "Like we're doing now, but more of it. I'm stuck here until my master figures out where I am, and I'm guessing if you wanted to be home right now, you'd be there."

Jack was…very astute. Chenglei wasn't entirely sure he believed Jack about not having 'weird' motives, but even that he'd _said_ he didn't was something of a relief.

And Chenglei really, really didn't want to go back home yet.

"Talking would be…fine."

"Maybe we could start with why it is you're _not_ home," Jack said. "I'm sure things are different here from where I grew up, but I'm willing to bet six-year-olds still aren't really supposed to be wandering around alone at night. Tell me you _do_ know that's dangerous."

"I know," Chenglei said, staring hard at the ground. "I just…can't be there. Not right now."

Some other adult may have chastised him further, but Jack simply nodded. "I get that," he declared. "My master doesn't like to be around anyone when he's really upset, but I do it, too. Don't suppose you want to talk about what's bothering you?"

Chenglei eyed him warily, remembering Jack's earlier warning to be careful of the information he gave away.

Jack noticed the look. "Hey, I'm not going to do anything with whatever you tell me. I don't know anybody around here to gossip with, and if all goes according to plan, I'll be out of here before sunrise, never to return. You're never gonna find someone better to vent at than me."

"It's…" Chenglei sighed, the frustration already bubbling up in him again just thinking about it. "It's _everything._"

"That's a lot of things to be going wrong," Jack said.

"They are, though. Everything is wrong, and I can't… I _can't._"

"Huh." Jack looked at him oddly, like he was confusing or something that didn't fit. "You are way too little to be having a mid-life crisis."

That phrase again. "Too little. Father says that, too."

Jack perked up. "Your father?"

Chenglei nodded. "We aren't…we don't have much. Father farms. He says that I should be helping, but I'm too little. I'm not strong enough to…I can't do it."

"Well, Jesus, you're _six,_" Jack said, "of course you can't do hard labor yet."

"But I'm supposed to!" Chenglei protested. "If I can't work, I'm deadweight. I'm dragging everyone else down with me and I have to grow up soon or else I'll be useless forever."

Jack looked as though he'd just tasted something sour. "I get the feeling that's a direct quote."

But Chenglei didn't address that. "Dashi just makes it _worse._"

"Dashi. Your brother?" If Chenglei had been paying attention, he'd have noticed how tacked-on that ending inflection had been, just barely turning a statement into a question.

"He's…we're twins," he said. "We're the same age, we were born the same day, only an hour apart, but he's…"

"The favorite?" Jack guessed.

"_Better,_" Chenglei corrected. "_He_ can help father with the harvest. He's strong enough to do it. He's bigger and stronger and he's so…"

He trailed off and there was quiet for long enough that Jack prompted, "What?"

Chenglei shook his head. "I'm not supposed to… It's wrong. I shouldn't say it."

"Well, say it anyway. Who am I gonna tell?"

"I can't. When I said it, before, I… I made mother cry."

"Okay, so you've already said it once and I'm not about to start crying," Jack promised. "You might as well say it again."

Chenglei breathed deeply. "I hate him," he said, softly because anything louder than a whisper felt unacceptable. "I hate that he's better. I hate that everyone likes him. I hate that everybody thinks I'm his little brother, just because he's taller and stronger than me."

"You're a late-bloomer," Jack said, but his tone was hushed, too. "You'll catch up."

"When?" Chenglei stared at Jack for a second and when the man could give no answer, he turned away again. "He's going to train at the Xiaolin temple soon," he declared. "He's going to be a monk. He's going to learn how to fight and be a _Xiaolin dragon._ Dashi gets to do all of the things I _can't,_ and he doesn't even… He won't even show off, like he's doing his 'baby brother' a favor by not bragging. So I hate him."

Chenglei's next breath was a little shaky as he admitted, "He's my brother, but he has all the things I want and I know it's wrong to say I hate him, but I just want… I want to prove myself, somehow, but I don't have anything there to prove and father, mother, Dashi—they all want things from me, too, and I." He blinked a few times. "I don't think I can do it all. I can't do anything."

"Oh, god," said Jack. "When I said I wasn't gonna cry, I kind of thought you weren't gonna cry either."

"I'm not crying," Chenglei snapped.

"No, but I can see your eyes, you're gonna." Jack sounded vaguely panicked at the thought and began fumbling around in the long black coat he was wearing. "I know this is already way skeezy, and I really shouldn't be making it worse, but I know for a _fact_ I will not be able to handle it if you start crying and kids like candy, so just—aha!"

Chenglei was entirely baffled as Jack tore open a shiny, see-through bag of colorful lumps and shoved it into his hands.

"There," he said, "just…eat those, they're good, I was saving them for later, but I really mean it, I cannot deal if you cry, so please."

Chenglei looked between Jack and the lumps for a moment, hesitantly picking out a bright red one and inspecting it.

Jack didn't seem to be excited that Chenglei was falling for something. Mostly, he just looked worried, like it might cause him actual, physical pain if Chenglei were to start crying.

And maybe Chenglei was a little curious about the brightly-colored bean-things, so he put the red one in his mouth.

He instantly understood why Jack thought it would cheer him up.

It was _sweet_ and flavorful, like nothing Chenglei had ever tasted before, and when he chewed it, the texture went from hard to an interesting sort of sticky. It was obviously not a cherry or anything that could've come from a plant, but the flavor was exactly _like_ one, and he couldn't help but make a pleased noise at the taste.

Jack promptly began laughing.

Chenglei stopped chewing to stare at him with wide eyes, but Jack controlled his giggles.

"No, no," he said, "you're fine, it's fine. I just… I know somebody who has a major weakness for sweet things and I may have just figured out why."

That didn't sound all that funny, but Chenglei decided he could let it go in light of the fact that Jack was sharing these with him. Still, "You're a weird man, Jack, you know that, don't you?"

Jack laughed again. "Sure do," he said, unbothered. "You're definitely not the first person to tell me that one."

Well, as long as he knew. Chenglei picked out another bean, a white one with brown speckles like a bird egg. It was much sweeter than the red one, without the added tang of sour, and he wasn't sure he could even place the flavor of it.

Wherever it was Jack came from, it must have been pretty great to have sweets like this. He carefully rolled up the bag and placed it in his shirt, planning on saving the rest of the candy for later.

"Y'know," Jack said suddenly, and Chenglei looked up to see the man was watching him with a strange expression. "I never realized, but…we've actually got a lot in common."

Chenglei snorted. "I doubt it."

"No, really," Jack insisted. "I never knew all…this…about you before. It makes sense, but I think I _get_ you more now."

Jack was speaking strangely again. "Get me?"

"Understand you," Jack corrected himself. "I understand."

That brought a scowl to Chenglei's face. "You don't understand," he said. "You can't understand! You're…" A man, rich, no one to answer to but a single master, no responsibilities, no _expectations_… "Not me."

"No, I'm not you," Jack agreed. "But believe it or not, I've been where you are now."

Chenglei stared at him and Jack sat up a little straighter, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Alright, I guess it's story-time. You told me your story, I might as well give you mine. My life right now is…pretty damn great, I won't lie to you about that," and Jack seemed sincere. "It wasn't all that long ago that it was a lot worse, though."

"How?"

"Same as you, kid," Jack shrugged. "I wasn't anything. I was a nobody."

That couldn't be possible. Jack and his rapid way of speaking that rarely made sense and his death-white skin and his lucky-red hair and eyes—there was no way Jack could have ever been someone ordinary.

But Jack kept talking. "I was never great at…well, a lot of things. My parents are…uh, traders, I guess. Merchants. And they always wanted me to do the same thing, but I think I've always been a mechanic at heart."

"What is a mechanic?" Chenglei asked, not understanding the term.

"Agh, dammit. An artisan," Jack explained, "a craftsman. I make things. Stuff like…No, that's complicated, too, actually." And now that he'd been listening to Jack talk for awhile, Chenglei actually believed that was true. "Basically, I like working with my hands, but my family never approved. I mean, obviously, we're high class, manual labor isn't a thing we're supposed to do."

"So, what did you do?"

"I did it anyway."

Chenglei sucked in a breath. "You defied your _father_?"

"Sure I did," Jack said, like it was just that easy to go against such an authority. "Dad was almost never around, so it wasn't all that hard to get away with it. I just had to keep it out of his sight when he showed up and it wasn't a problem."

"Your mother didn't tell him what you were doing?"

"Mom was on my side," Jack told him. "She didn't see the harm in it, so even if she never really got my 'fascination' with it, she didn't tattle on me, either."

Chenglei tried to process the idea of a place where sons and wives could go against their fathers and husbands; where a merchant's heir would actually _want_ to become a lowly craftsman.

He couldn't quite grasp it, but it was…new.

"Anyway, that was going on for years—since I was your age at least," Jack continued. "A little later, I started trying to get into…well, let's say martial arts."

Chenglei straightened. "_You_ wanted to be a Xiaolin monk, too?"

"No," Jack said flatly, only to amend, "kind of. I wanted to be as good as they were," and Chenglei understood that even _better._ "I was awful at it, though. I'm too…"

Jack abruptly rolled up his sleeve, holding out his long, porcelain-pale arm. "Grab me," he said.

"What?"

"It's a demonstration," Jack told him vaguely. "Grab my arm and squeeze as hard as you can. You're only six, so it should be even more embarrassing."

Chenglei frowned, but he reached out and curled his fingers around Jack's wrist as much as his comparatively small hand was able. He found himself…surprised, somehow, that skin so pale should be so warm. He gripped, though, as tightly as he could before releasing the man and scooting backwards to a more reasonable distance again.

"Good." Jack sat back, pulling up a knee and draping his bared arm over it. "You watch that, it'll be bruised in a couple minutes."

"How—"

"My body is really delicate, actually," Jack confessed. "I was born the way I am, and the way I am is…not good for learning how to fight. I bruise easy, I'm not really strong, and to be honest about it, I hate _hard_ work, so getting strong enough to learn the stuff I wanted to learn was guaranteed to take a hell of a long time."

"Did you?" Chenglei couldn't help but ask.

"It's a work in progress, don't interrupt." Chenglei hushed. "I got beat up a lot in between, though. Every time I tried to be…_better,_ I got smacked down. A hundred times, I tried to be more than what I was, and I paid the price for it."

Chenglei knew that feeling. He knew it intimately. He felt it every time he tried to help father and could barely lift the tools, every time he tried to make friends and got shooed away, every time he tried to keep up with Dashi and only ended up breathless and exhausted for the effort.

Jack was the same.

"It sucked," Jack said and Chenglei didn't know the meaning of that either, though he could guess with the context, "but it felt a lot worse than it was because at the time, I had…a really specific person I was trying to impress."

"Your master?"

"Yeah." Jack sighed. "I think I always wanted to be with him somehow. It was a different feeling when I was younger, a little less maybe, but I can't really remember a time when I didn't want to be his. The way I was, though, he didn't even give me the time of day."

"He sounds like a jerk," Chenglei declared, and Jack laughed.

"Well, yeah, he's kind of a jerk, but I don't blame him for not seeing me," Jack said. "Then, I wasn't really anything to see. I was a kid and I talked big, but I couldn't back it up. Pretty much every time I fought, I lost. Badly." He paused, looking down at his arm. "Oh, yeah, there it goes—this is _why_ I kept losing so bad."

Chenglei looked and sure enough, there was a faint imprint of his hand around Jack's wrist, a light-light purple mark like a brand.

"How did you do it?" Chenglei demanded to know. "You're weak and you can't even fight yet. How did you get his attention?"

That was something Chenglei deeply needed to find out—some way, _any_ way to prove himself to all the people he had to prove himself to, because as he was, he knew he wasn't good enough. He wanted to be, so badly, but there was just so much to live up to and he wasn't sure that he _could._

But Jack looked at him, calm and utterly serious as he said, "I stopped trying to."

"_What?_"

"I grew up," Jack told him. "I realized that if I kept trying to be a dozen things at once—what I thought my master wanted, what I thought my parents wanted, what I thought I _should_ be—I wasn't going to be able to be any of them. I decided to just be what _I_ wanted, and damn everybody else."

"That doesn't…" Chenglei frowned and shook his head. "I don't understand. How would that work?"

"When I stopped worrying about other people and all the crap they wanted from me, everything got so much easier." Jack rolled down his sleeve and shifted, leaning forward a bit. "I wasn't making as many mistakes, and the ones I did make, I actually started learning from. I got better, fast, and that was enough to at least get him to really look at me."

Jack smiled fondly. "Getting him to look was all I needed. Once he did, he liked what he saw. He may have totally hated the me that was trying to be, like, four people at once and failing, but the _real_ me was something he wanted to keep around. He asked me to stick with him for life and I plan to."

Chenglei was a little startled when Jack turned to grin at him, sharp and almost wicked.

"The best part was the vindication, though. Everybody who ever said I was useless and would never be anything better? I proved them _wrong._ I got to shove it in their faces and watch them realize just how wrong they were to think I was always gonna be beneath them."

Chenglei really didn't want to admit it, but that sounded…_good._ It seemed mean, but just thinking about becoming better and being able to show his father that he'd become a man in spite of being told that he was too little to ever be one came with a visceral feeling of pleasure. So did the thought of finally beating Dashi at something and being able to pat _him_ on the head and patronize, 'Maybe you'll get it next time, _dìdì._'

"Do you really think…" Chenglei looked up at Jack, uncertain. "Do you really think it could be like that for me? Would it work?"

"Absolutely" said Jack without so much as a hint of hesitation. There was nothing but confidence in his voice as he stated, "If you can hang in there, you can be whatever you want to be."

And that was…the first time. The first time that anyone had ever definitively told him that the things he wanted were within his reach—not 'you'll never,' not 'you have to do something else,' but 'you _can._'

It felt important, somehow, so Chenglei tried to commit it to memory as firmly as possible.

"_Here_ you are."

Chenglei gasped and turned to see another figure standing in the field. Like Jack, it was a man, or at least man-shaped, but that was where the similarities ended. Where Jack was oddly-colored and strange, the newcomer looked far more normal with long, unbound black hair and flesh-toned skin. His clothing was just as nice as Jack's, but the silk and armor he wore clearly marked him as a lord; a warlord, where Chenglei couldn't tell much of Jack's station from his outfit but that he was wealthy.

He tried to look at the man's face…and immediately felt a wave of eeriness wash over him. Chenglei couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something about this man…

He'd thought _Jack_ was some kind of evil spirit, but he knew for certain that he hadn't gotten anything like this creepy aura or this uncanny feeling when Jack had first strode up to him.

But Jack was already on his feet, practically skipping towards the armored man that made the hair on the back of Chenglei's neck stand straight up.

"Chase!" Jack happily greeted, throwing his arms around him. "Took you long enough!"

The warlord, Chase settled a gloved hand on Jack's back in a firm, possessive gesture and Chenglei realized—_this_ was Jack's master.

"Forgive the delay," Chase said, smirking in a way that made Chenglei shudder and resolve not to look very hard at him anymore. "Although, if you'd like to blame anyone, I'd say you should blame yourself for taking as long as you did to become memorable."

Jack scoffed and took a step back. "It's not my fault you've got a crappy memory, old-timer," he declared. "Seriously, what, could you not figure out how to work the TM v2 without me there?"

"I saw no reason to bother with your machine when this was so readily available." Chase held up an hourglass, which he showed off to Jack. "Besides, no matter what the delay was for me, I'd have come to get you at the same time. Even if I had remembered sooner, I couldn't go creating any paradoxes. This is the time I was meant to retrieve you."

"Pfft, paradoxes. Fine," said Jack with a roll of his eyes, "as long as you weren't sitting on a beach in Tahiti sucking down margaritas and putting it off, I guess it doesn't matter."

Chase caught Jack by the wrist, the same one Chenglei had managed to bruise, and made Jack look at him. "I would never put you off," he said. "You were my priority the entire time you were gone from me."

Jack's white-white cheeks flushed and Chenglei found himself weirdly fascinated by the color. "Yeah, well," he said, gruff and looking everywhere but his master. "I knew you'd get me."

"Always. And may I compliment you on the brilliance of your plan, using me as a focal point. It was very effective for me in more than one way."

Jack smiled, almost mischievous. "I had an impact? Really?"

"You did," Chase told him.

"Well…then…" Jack glanced back at Chenglei. "Could I say goodbye, too?"

Chase's eyes locked with Chenglei's. It was only for a second, but the sight of golden dragon-eyes in a man's face was enough to leave him momentarily paralyzed.

It was a relief when Chase's gaze left him, returning to Jack. "You may," the warlord nodded graciously.

Jack left his master's side and came back over to Chenglei, who stood as Jack knelt to be on his level.

Chenglei went very still as Jack reached out and embraced him, pulling him up against the man's warm body.

It wasn't bad. To the contrary, it was _nice._ It felt good, and Chenglei quickly relaxed into it once he realized what it was.

It had been a very long time since anyone had hugged him. He was too little for so many things, but the one thing he was apparently too big for was coddling.

The hug ended maybe a little sooner than Chenglei would've like and he looked up at Jack, whose big, pale hands were on his shoulders.

"You just keep at it, kid," he said with a knowing smile. "You're gonna be great one day: remember that."

Then Jack stood, brushing the grass off of his knees. "It's late and I won't be around to make sure you don't find any trouble. You should get home."

Chenglei nodded. Home didn't feel like such a foreboding, terrible place to go back to, anymore. "Okay," he decided. "I will. Thank you, Jack."

"Don't mention it," Jack dismissed, and he turned around and headed back over to where Chase stood.

Chenglei turned too, beginning to walk in the direction of his village.

Behind him, though, he couldn't help but overhear.

"So…_did_ you remember?"

"Barely. That last bit was the only thing that truly stuck, but it was enough. Thank you again, Jack."

A groan. "Okay, okay, enough with the mush already! Just take me home, I am so done with pre-electricity."

"Sands of Time!"

And Chenglei couldn't help but look back, damning his curiosity even as he did it.

He felt a little bit like he'd been struck by lightning when he turned to see a totally empty field, with no trace of the two men who had been there only seconds before.

Immediately, he knew he'd been right. Jack and Chase, especially Chase—they weren't human, _couldn't_ have been to do something like that. He shivered, his heart beating strongly in his chest as it dawned on him how _close_ he had been to getting spirited away and he sprinted home as quickly as he'd run away from it before.

It wasn't until Chenglei had snuck back in and laid down on his pallet, Dashi and his parents not even stirring, that he began to calm down.

In fact, by morning, he was almost sure the whole strange night had been nothing more than a particularly vivid dream…save, of course, for the small bag of jellied beans that Jack had given him, still tucked away in his shirt.

**A/N: I'm really cranking these out! I'm still very proud of myself for that, but maybe I'm just excited that I'm almost on Spring Break. XD**

**_Jelly Bean -_ I've been dying to do a kid-Chase fic, to tell you all the truth, and I think I'm happy with the way this one turned out. I wanted to show a little bit of Chase's background (at least, as I see it) and how his turn to Heylin was practically predetermined. Because Hannibal Bean was the one who got him to drink the soup, and it's gonna be another decade _minimum_ before that happens, but Chase's turn to evil started early; with his own selfish jealousy and his need to prove himself and having spent so much time in the shadow of people somehow better than him.**

**Even at six, Chase is already starting to have all these dark, painful feelings, but until Jack, they were only punished and negated. Jack shows up just in time to validate Chase's supposedly unacceptable feelings by accepting them and nudging him just a little closer to the path that will ultimately lead him all the way to Bean, immortality, and the Heylin.**

**But that's verging into AU-meta territory. ;P**

**Just a few other minor notes: 1) the jelly beans Chenglei ate were based off of the Jelly Belly brand, first Very Cherry and then Roasted Marshmallow, 2) 'dìdì' is the equivalent of 'baby brother,' 3) 'TM v2' stands for 'Time Machine Version 2,' and 4) for anyone who wasn't able to pick it up from context clues, the premise of this one is that Jack was somehow lost in the time-stream without Chase and to get back, he decided his best bet was to find a younger Chase and hang around him until the future-Chase remembered the incident and came to get him.**

**And that's all I have to say about this one! Thanks for reading everybody, and I hope you liked the fic! :D**


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